The Villain of the Story
by seriousish
Summary: After the meteor shower, Lionel Luthor finds Kal-El and raises him as Lex's brother. The Kents find the child who would once have been Davis Bloom and raise him as their own. A decade later, their paths collide. Chloe/Davis.
1. Chapter 1

Davis has a recurring nightmare, one where he has no parents, no friends, no life. He's in a cornfield, like that little kid from the Twilight Zone wished him away from the Kent Farm. He sees himself from the outside, different, like a funhouse mirror so finely skewed that you can't pinpoint what's changed. Then there are men, aliens that are human somehow. They put the other him in a cage and take him away.

As he gets older, Davis realizes that the him in the cage never went away at all.

* * *

Lex is exploring the mansion when he sees the man in white. Biohazard. He's not surprised that his father brings his work home. It's the most Lex sees of him since the meteor shower, his cowardice. Like his mom's died all over again, only instead of well-wishers and silence, the castle hums with some ubiquitous activity that seems to have made a point of excluding him.

Lex goes back the way the man in the biosuit had come. It leads down to the wine cellar, where the clean, slightly perfumed scent of the castle heeds to the fetid smell of the underground, wet soil filled with worms and the bones of buried men and women. Lex does not like the wine cellar. It reminds him of funerals.

One of the doors has a keypad, like a tumor of the cancer invading his home, taking his father away. He knows the code is either Mom's birthday or Julian's, and it turns out to be Julian's. Inside is a disappointment. There's a cage and a baby. It's odd, but his boyish mind had given him images of space aliens and mythological beasts, a slimy creature that has replaced or is controlling his real father. Something he can kill.

The toddler is crying. It, he, stops for a moment to notice Lex, his blue eyes like some rare mineral unearthed in this mine. Turquoise or sapphire. He's jolted out of his attempt to reconcile his fantasies of intrigue with this mild creature when the toddler starts crying at the top of his lungs. Lex runs and doesn't stop until he's in his room, pulling back the dust cover on his bed as if he'll hide under it. Like a child. Like a weak child.

Instead he digs into his closet, tears burning his eyes as he shunts away his mother's things, his precious hoard of memories, to get to the preschool toys. Bright colors, rounded edges. No wonder he outgrew them.

Lex gathers them up in a backpack, smuggles them down to the toddler. He wastes a good hour seeing how the thing responds to each toy. The toddler seems to figure them out quickly, boring of some and arranging the others in a shape that evolves from an S to an hourglass to an 8. The toddler's joy is infectious too, his eyes so pure and unjudgmental. Lex tries to convince himself he's not having fun playing Sesame Street games with a baby. He fails.

"And that's Warrior Angel," Lex says, turning the page for the toddler, then leaning forward until all he can see is those blue eyes. "I'm gonna be just like him when I grow up."

"Is that so?" His father's voice is warm, but Lex can guess that's more for the toddler's benefit than his. He knows with his father, warmth is just an absence of cold, something to dazzle the press. Something that died with Mom. "What are you doing down here, Lex?"

"The door was open."

"The door was open." His father's eyes are as cold and indignant as glass. "If you're going to lie, son, at least show me the courtesy of doing it well." His hand bites into Lex's arm. There. There's the fury hidden in his voice, lurking beneath the surface, buried under the ground. Lex nearly cries out, but doesn't. He doesn't want to scare the toddler. "I am your father, after all."

He drags Lex out of the wine cellar, so fast, so powerful, and Lex's feet pedal to keep up. When his father lets him go he lands on all fours, skinning his knees. "Lex, you are _never_ to be with Clark unless an employee is present. Am I understood? _Never be alone with Clark._"

Fixating on the new information is enough to trick his body into not crying. "Clark?"

"Clark Lucien Luthor," his father says off-handedly. "He's your new brother."

* * *

It's his first day of school and Davey is going to be confident. He's not going to have a black-out. He put his entire allowance in the collection plate last Sunday and then he had a long talk with God outlining all the reasons he can't have a blackout on his first day of school. He even went to the Sunday school teacher about it and she told him God worked in mysterious ways. That was fine; he'd spend all Saturday morning on a blackout if it just meant none of the other kids saw him as a freak.

He's on the bus and it's so far so good. He's getting off the bus and he can feel it, he's not going to lose a single second.

Then, on the way to class, a little blonde girl sneaks next to him and asks if he believes in UFOs.

Davey Kent faints dead away.

* * *

The four minutes of Davey's blackout are the longest four minutes of Chloe's life. Lana is crying and screaming that Chloe killed him, she saw it, and Pete is telling her to shut up, and Chloe is bent over Davey, trying to see what's wrong. Narcolepsy? Food poisoning? Voodoo curse?

Finally, she remembers the story her mother told her last night. The story of Sleeping Beauty.

She gathers her courage, then reminds herself that cooties aren't like ghosts, they're not real. It's really more of a headbutt where only their lips touch than a kiss, but when she opens her eyes, Davey is looking up at her.

"What's a UFO?"

The teacher arrives and takes Davey to the school nurse and Chloe is in for weeks of mockery, but the important thing is Davey.

When he opened his eyes, Chloe could've sworn they were a deep, blood red.

* * *

Chloe sits down across from Davey at lunch. She's smiling at him and _looking_ at him… Davey protectively pulls his juicebox closer to him. She probably thinks they're married now. Awful of a girl to marry a guy while he's sleeping. He'll have to ask Dad if he had to marry Mom because they slept together.

Chloe leans close to him, like she's giving him the answer to a test. "You're weird."

"Am not! Shut up!"

"It's okay. I think weird's cool. Did'ya know there's a lizard that can shoot blood out its eyeballs?"

Davey's face screwed up, like he was carefully considering this prospect. "Nah! No way!"

Chloe takes one of about a million books out of her backpack and shows him a picture. It's the grossest thing he's ever seen. _Awesome._

He doesn't let her drink from his juicebox, but he does carry her million books for her.

* * *

"And she knows about dinosaurs and UFOs (that's aliens) and all sorts of Indian stuff! There were Indians in Smallville a hundred years ago, she said."

"Sounds like a smart cookie," Mom says.

"She's the smartest girl in school!"

"Well, you just stick close to her then," Dad said. "I married the smart girl and look where it got me." He grabbed a slice of Davey's first-day-of-school pizza pie. "Looks like our boy's gonna grow up to be quite the ladykiller."

"I think it's a bit too soon to start on that."

"Just remember to ask yourself one important question." Dad's slice of pizza flopped around as he gestured at Davey. "Is she cute?"

Mom blew a soda straw wrapper at Dad. "Say grace."

As Dad made a quick prayer, Davey made his own. _Well, God, you didn't keep me from blacking out._ He thought of Chloe and the taste of her chapstick on his tongue. _But whatever works._

Just so long as she knew he was never gonna marry her.

* * *

Clark was ten years old when his father pushed him down the stairs. He remembered it because last night Lex had read The Little Prince to him and when Clark had asked why the Prince let himself be bitten, Lex had said it was because he was alone. That didn't seem right to Clark. After all, the Prince had the pilot to keep him company.

It bothered him so much that he'd explained the situation to Lionel. And then, as they'd gone down a flight of stairs, Clark had felt Lionel's hands pressing into his back.

Oh, later Lionel would tell him he'd imagined it, that it was natural for children to irrationally blame something for painful accidents, Clark remembered the exact force and position of those hands. He had fallen, scared out of his wits, then he'd stopped with his head smacking against a carpet. He'd sniffled.

"Don't cry." Lionel came down the stairs in a rush, but never breaking stride. "You have great power, my son. It's lain dormant long enough."

Then the testing started. Once a week, every week, six hours at a time. They determined how hot he could be heated before feeling pain, how cold he could get before losing consciousness, a million different facts carved out of him. He was strong. He was fast. He was tough. He could breathe ice, hear for miles, see through walls. And every week for six years they tested how his powers had grown. Once, Lex asked where Clark went. For five hours, Clark thought Lex was worried. When they started testing how sharp a blade had to be to cut his skin, he realized Lex was just jealous Lionel was spending time with him.

And at the end of each session, Lionel would take him by the hand to the adult kitchen, where Chef Laurence would fix them hot chocolate or banana splits or pancakes in the middle of the day. Lionel would rub his back and tell him how brave he was, how he was fulfilling his destiny. He'd call Clark his little traveler.


	2. Chapter 2

Lionel's weekly phone call had consistency as its only virtue. How are your grades? (Fine.) How's Clark? (He's good.) Gotten into any trouble? (No.) And, of course, "Put Clark on the phone."

"Clark, it's _your father_," Lex called to his roommate's side of the dorm.

Clark bounded up from the couch like a Golden Retriever noticing his master's key in the locks. He didn't notice the bitterness. He never did.

"I'll take it in my room." Clark was years younger than Lex, but his body had already eclipsed his brother's lanky frame. His shoulders were broad, his smile was dazzling, and he was MVP of the school's lacrosse team. Girls and boys alike competed for his attention, a chance to be with him and Ollie, golden boys among the sterling silver rich. The most Lex had ever got was to tag along, a half-hearted request to _Clark's friends_ to stop picking on him.

All he wanted to know was why some people had grand destinies… and he wasn't one of them.

"Clark, so good to hear your voice again." Lionel's voice was a rich purr, warm as a summer day, apple pie, childhood. "How are your classes?"

"Oh, you know how it is. As long as you're paying attention, it's as easy as parroting their bilge back to them. No critical thinking required."

"That's why _our_ little lessons are so important. While your classmates are studying the Old World, you are shaping the new one."

"I know, Father. I won't let you down."

"That's my boy."

"Lex is doing great," Clark piped up. "His paper on xenobiology got an A+. A couple of scientific journals are fighting over publication rights."

"Then you've been taking good care of him?"

"Yes, of course, but—"

Lionel overrode him. "Lex isn't like you. He's not special. Much as it pains me to say, I think the Luthor genius may have skipped a generation."

Lex very calmly, very deliberately pulled the phone cord from the wall. He had known his father felt that way. His jaw clenched. He _had known._

"There's more to Lex than you've seen. You should give him a chance."

"I gave him a chance and it ended at his mother's grave."

* * *

The first day of high school was weird. He introduced himself as Davis instead of Davey, and at lunch he sat together with Chloe, as always, and Coach Arnold singled him out for the football team as soon as he saw Davis's shoulders. That was all fine. But in 8th period, just when he was almost home free, he started feeling queasy. Not like a blackout; that darkness was soothing. This _hurt_. He tried to grit through it. 90 minutes, that was all.

Chloe noticed his teeth gnashing and his fingers turning white around his No. 2 pencil. She passed a note. _Are you alright?_ He crumpled it as a fresh wave of pain washed over him.

"Miss Lang, would you please come to the front and read the Hippocratic Oath?"

Lana demurely decoupled from Whitney's affections and went to the front. As she passed Davis, he doubled over in agony. Vomit spewed out of his mouth, splattering the tiled floor and Lana's spaghetti-strap sandals. Lana screamed, hand flying to her green necklace. As the class laughed, Davis spilled out of his chair and staggered for the door, butting into it before his clammy hands locked on the knob. He turned with all his might, finally budging it, and tumbled out into the hall.

Uproarious laughter and Mr. Jensen's attempts to restore calm followed him all the way to the bathroom. He guzzled water, splashed his face with it, poured it over his close-cropped hair. The pain was gone, but the memory of it was like a brand, flaring up with each breath.

"_He has a medical condition, assholes!_" he heard Chloe shout from outside, then she stampeded into the men's room.

"Hey!" Eric Summers shouted.

"Beat it or eat pepper spray." Chloe dug into her purse.

He beat it.

"Are you alright?" Chloe asked, trying not to note how the muscles stood out on his arms as they leaned on the sink.

"I'm just peachy," Davis ripped towels from the dispenser until he had enough to wipe his arms and face off.

"Yeah. If you wanted to make a good impression on the prettiest girl in school, eating the chili for lunch was probably a bad idea."

"I didn't throw up on you." Davis scrubbed his tongue with a paper towel.

"Well, I'm… not…"

"How's Lana?"

"She has Whitney to help her get over the horrifying ordeal. And if you're making a list of people to run into in dark alleys, leave him off it."

Davis wadded the paper into one soggy ball and dumped it in the trash. He stood there, listening to the black garbage bag crinkle. "You ever ask yourself why?"

"Why what?"

"Why God gave me this illness, or took your mother away?"

"God didn't take my mom away."

"I know. Hell." He leaned against the wall. "I shouldn't have brought that up."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I have two parents who love me and here I go comparing myself to what you've been through? I'd spend a year in a blackout if it would bring your mother back."

"Don't say that. You barely knew my mother." And just the thought of Davis alone, trapped inside his own body, made her want to throw her arms around him and not let go.

"I know you." Davis stood up straight, looming over Chloe like a mighty oak. Chloe shook her head, trying to throw the metaphor. "Anyone who could raise a daughter that turned out like you…"

"Davis…" It was so easy to believe, seeing him standing there in all his strength, that he was invincible, a rock. He wasn't. "We should go see the school nurse. You might be coming down with something; usually you're healthy as a horse."

* * *

"So how was school?" Martha asked, ladling out the green bean casserole.

Davis thought about it. "I vomited on the head cheerleader's shoes."

"It could be worse," Jonathan reasoned.

"She was wearing sandals."

"I knew it. I knew I shouldn't have let him eat cafeteria food."

"Martha, calm down…"

"That food is sold by the lowest bidder!"

Davis stood up. Something was off. Looked wrong, felt wrong, sounded wrong. He went to the front door while Ma and Pa had their spirited discussion on the merits of boxed lunches. Through the window he could see a cloud of dirt, like a car had just rolled by. He went outside. As soon as the door shut behind him, high beams snapped on, pinning him. Davis was surprised to find he wasn't blinded. He could see perfectly, past the harsh light, to Whitney sitting at the wheel.

Davis stepped forward. Who did this jerk think he was? It wasn't like he had deliberately gotten sick. Did Whitney think he was better than Davis, just because he was a big tough guy in fifty pounds of safety gear?

The F-150 screamed forward and Davis screamed with it, striding forward like he was going to rip Whitney right out of his truck. Whitney turned at the last minute, the tail of his truck almost hitting Davis as it swerved. Breathing hard, Davis watched it peel off into the night.

Jonathan and Martha ran out to join him. "You could've been killed!" Jonathan cursed. "Who was that psycho?"

"Not a clue."

* * *

Despite Lionel's uncertainty, Lex had learned from his father. He bided his time wile his temper cooled. It took a long time. Then he waited until Clark was watching TV with him, an evolutionary throwback to their childhood friendship. The show went to the commercial and they laid where they were on the couch and loveseat, too comfortable to move, just watching the silent movie commercials flash by.

Lex looked over the popped collar of his unbuttoned business shirt at Clark, an Hollister-clad demi-god in repose. "Clark, you've my brother and I love you."

"Uh-huh. You want me to get you a beer?"

"Clark, I'm serious." Lex rolled up into a sit, his black socks hitting the hardwood floor, his nimble fingers straightening his clothes in the fastidious manner he used when he was feeling important. "There are things I should've told you a long time ago. I was waiting for dad to tell you, but… I think you deserve to know."

Clark took his hands out from under his head. "Know what?"

"That you were adopted." Lex's tone was so serious Clark didn't even think he might be kidding.

"But Dad told me he covered up my birth so that his enemies couldn't---he took me to mom's grave."

"We were in Smallville. It was just after the meteor shower. The town archives had taken a hit. There were a lot of orphans. I _suppose_ he took pity on you."

"Damnit, Lex!" Clark rose to his feet with such violence that Lex shrank back. "You think I don't know what you're doing? You think I don't _know you_?"

"Nobody knows me." Lex slumped, reached for Clark's beer. Clark pushed him away.

"You have no idea how hard it is being your brother!"

"And you have no idea how hard it is being me! Always trying, never being _perfect_…"

"_I'm not the reason your hair fell out!_"

Lex stared at him in total surprise. Then he began to laugh. Clark joined in, braying out that deep belly-laugh that always made Lex's low chuckle seem insincere and snide.

"I always wondered how you could ever be my brother. I guess now I know."

Lex laughed harder at the dagger twisting.

* * *

The bus stop on FM 290 was pretty much just Davis and Chloe. Davis walked there, while Chloe's father Gabe dropped her off there on his way to work. He could drive her all the way to school, but she said she liked riding to school with her friends. And she did. She just liked waiting to ride to school with Davis more. Not so much when he was telling her about attempted vehicular manslaughter.

"Davis, you have to call the cops!"

"Yeah, Whitney would just love that. Try to get the star quarterback arrested before a game? He'd skate and I'd be the bad guy who couldn't take a joke."

"But you can't let him get away with that!"

"Turn the other cheek, Chlo. It's what the good book says."

A familiar engine growl scratched Davis's hearing. Whitney's pick-up rumbled down the far side of the road, skidding to a stop across the lane divider. Facing Davis down, Whitney at the wheel, five letterman-jacketed jocks riding shotgun and in back.

"Good book say anything about that?" Chloe asked, worry behind her sarcasm.

"Have a sling and some rocks ready?"

Whitney stroked the engine a few times. When Davis didn't budget, he let the F-150 jerk forward like a dog on a leash. Davis didn't blink. He felt, on some instinctual level, like he knew Whitney, better than if they'd been brothers. They were two predators, alpha wolves, and only one of them could have this territory. So Davis, very calmly, lifted his leg and kicked Whitney's headlight in.

"Davis!" Chloe shouted, part surprise, part warning.

Whitney had gotten out of the truck.

Davis was so angry his hands wouldn't stop being fists. He jammed them into his pockets. Whitney stampeded up to him, immediately giving Davis a shove. Davis spilled backward. He felt a prickle scraping at his skin, like something was probing his weak spots from the inside.

Chloe grabbed his arm and shoulder. Davis's anger cooled like someone had thrown a switch. "Whitney. It was an accident."

"Doesn't matter. There are some things you just don't get away with."

Davis gently moved Chloe out of the way. She dug into her pocket for her cell phone, 911, but Davis waved her off. That would just get Whitney's buddies on her.

Whitney came on, right hook. Davis felt his head turn, rock back. He didn't feel any pain, just surprise at the abrupt motion. Whitney struck him again and it was like he was on a roller coaster. Blows rained down on his stomach, but all he felt was a little shortness of breath.

Davis ran his hand down his face, causing not a twinge. "You done?"

Whitney's fist moved like it was in slow-motion. Davis watched it until the knuckles brushed his jaw, then he felt his head abruptly fly to the side. He kept jerking back and forth at the end of Whitney's fist, but he never even got dizzy. Then he heard Chloe cry his name. Davis brought his head down in time to see Whitney shove Chloe to the ground. The thing inside him pressed up against the center of his palm _and pushed through_…

His fist moved. Without thinking, Davis could feel his body streamlining itself like an Olympian throwing a discus. He realized with a sick lack of caring how much force he was exerting. He saw with a horrifying, arousing clarity how Whitney was spun around by the punch, bones distorting, skin tearing. Whitney hit the ground with four gashes in his cheek. Davis felt a dull pain in his knuckles, but it quickly went away. He saw the jocks back up when he took a step toward them, but he only helped Chloe up.

"Are you okay?"

"Am I okay!?" Chloe felt his face, turning it from side to side. "You don't have a scratch on you!"

"Guess Whitney's punches are as weak as his passes." Davis booted Whitney's prone body toward the jocks. "Get him out of my sight. When he wakes up, tell him if there's a next time, I'll punch him _twice._"

* * *

Once the jocks had driven off, Chloe checked Davis for a concussion with a penlight. Then she unzipped his sweatshirt and put her hands on his chest, fanning out from his heart. "Does that hurt?"

"No." Davis watched the hand he'd punched Whitney with like it might disobey him. There was blood all over the back of it. He wiped his hand on a cornstalk. The skin over his knuckles was bruised white. He hid it in his pocket. No reason to worry Chloe anymore.

Chloe put her hands on his upper ribs, feeling him breathe. "Does that hurt?"

"No."

She moved her hands lower, feeling the dark hairs of his stomach through his thin cotton T-shirt. "Now?"

"No."

Her hands moved sideways, caressing his waist, slipping into his jean's waistband. His own hands hovered between them, wanting to go to her, but he didn't want to taint her light clothes with blood.

Chloe's fingers pressed harder into his flesh. "Does that hurt?"

The schoolbus crested the nearest hill. Chloe pulled her hands back and Davis zipped up his sweater, realizing flecks of blood had dotted his shirt.

* * *

Today, the entire bus was strangely silent. Chloe sat with Pete and Davis sat alone across the aisle. He chanced a look at his knuckles to see they were their normal hue. Someone got a cell phone call and it spread up one side of the bus and down the other. He just tried to keep his head down and soldier through, until the cops came for him in 8th period.

He was really getting to hate Intro to Pre-Med.

Deputy Adams and Principle Kwan were there. She searched through his backpack while Mr. Kwan told him how Whitney Fordman had been taken to the hospital.

"Yeah, we got into a brush-up," Davis admitted, "but I was only defending myself."

"And how 'brushed up' was Whitney Fordman when you last saw him?" Adams asked.

"He had a glass jaw. I punched him once, that's all!"

"With a set of brass knuckles?"

"What!? No, did he say that, that's bullshit!"

"He has twenty-one stitches, you don't have a mark on you. You wanna tell me what sounds like BS?" She dropped the backpack at his feet. "Clean. Turn around, hands on the wall."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Does this look like the face of a kidder?" Her hand dropped to her flashlight. "Anytime you're ready, Mr. Kent."

Davis bit the inside of his cheek and let it run through his teeth slowly. He felt like a pot boiling over. Did she think that flashlight would hurt him? He'd spent the morning getting worked over by the star quarterback and now he'd never felt better. What could she do?

Despite Kwan's attempts to keep order, students were crowding the doors. Davis felt Chloe's eyes on him, her unspoken wish for him to stay cool. He turned and put his hands on the lockers. As the bell rang and the student body of Smallville High started home, Deputy Adams patted Davis Kent down like a common criminal.

At least he didn't have a black-out.

* * *

Author's notes: This chapter is still pre-pilot, although only a few months now. Everyone, say hi to Sheriff Adams, currently Deputy Adams. One of the fun parts of writing this fic and rewatching season one to get all the voices right was trying to make every "walk-on role" someone who had appeared on-screen and could conceivably go on to have a starring role in the fic, so if you see a proper noun, it's probably someone who's been on camera.

Another slow burn chapter, this. Having set up all the characters and relationships in 1, now they're all going into motion, breaking down or building up. Here we have the AU explanation for why Lex ends up in Smallville (or at least why Lex _thinks_ he ends up in Smallville) and another layer of resentment/affection between Clark and Lex. I especially wanted to take my time on the normality of the setting, the petty little situations that get lost in the coming storm. Speaking of which, there's a major plot development hidden in a throwaway line here. See if you can spot it.

I also wanted to take a look at what Davis and Chloe would be like in this AU setting, before all hell broke loose, and how it would differ from either canon!Davis/Chloe or Chlark. Chloe has a lot of the same feelings for Davis that she would have for Clark, she's _very_ protective of him, only Davis doesn't have Lana blinders on (these are provided to every visitor to Smallville free of charge). However, he's also a teenage boy, which is probably more of a damper on relationships than being an alien. Still, those two would probably work it out on their own, if not for… hmmm.

In short, THROBBING BIOLOGICAL URGES.

And, of course, we have Davis feeling very sick at S1!Lana's presence. What could've caused that? Besides the obvious? :)


	3. Chapter 3

Hands carefully embedded in his pockets, Clark walked the perimeter of Lex's office. To the untrained eye, it was furnished with the same untasted taste any decorator would employ, but Clark could discern how Lex's tastes shied away from the cold steel and leather Lionel favored. Not toward anything, just away from their father.

"If I'd known you were coming over, I would've cleared off the bunk beds." Lex swirled his brandy, watching the sun filter through it and the ice within. "So what brings the Head of Special Projects to the aptly-named Smallville?"

Clark made a B-line to Lex's desk like he found the room's opulence tawdry. His hair was slicked back and he'd abandoned his affinity for primary colors in favor of a dark suit and blood-red tie. "I'd hardly say I'm the Head of Special Projects, Lex."

"Let's not talk formalities. It wastes time."

"I didn't know your time was so valuable."

"If it isn't, what are you doing here?"

Clark smiled thinly. "Just shooting in and out for a few days. We haven't talked much since Father and I went on our trip. You're not still sore about that, are you?"

"As inconceivable as I find the notion of anyone outside of law enforcement wanting 'face time' with Lionel? No, Clark, I don't envy you one bit. I've learned to become self-sufficient in the past few years. All you've learned is how to be a more obedient lapdog."

Clark carefully considered the glass Lex had poured him before sitting down and knocking it back with competitive streak on full display. "Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven?"

"This isn't hell, Clark. This is Smallville."

Clark dropped the smile. "I can see I've caught you at a bad time. I'll be back later, when you're feeling more… charitable."

"No rush," Lex said as his brother left.

* * *

Davis Kent woke up from the strangest dream he'd ever had. He'd felt at peace, content, utterly Nirvana-ed out… and yet at the same time he'd felt the kind of white-hot rage that felt too big for your body, the kind that made you almost shake apart. Complete split, yet it was like they balanced each other out. He hadn't felt so well-rested in ages. He was going to tell Chloe about the strange mix of dream and nightmare when she told him something that made him wonder if he was still sleeping.

"Davis, did you hear?"

"That? Just now? Yes, I did."

Chloe scooted closer to him on the squeaking leather bus seat. "Last night, someone… or something… crumpled Whitney's pick-up into a volleyball. They found it in the backseat of Deputy Adams' cruiser."

"Well, it is tornado season," Pete quipped.

Sometimes it felt like nothing happened in Smallville for weeks at a time, so wanton destruction dominated the conversations going on around him. Davis just sat back, enjoying his renewed anonymity.

"Did you have anything to do with this?" Chloe asked.

"Yeah, Chlo, I'm a space alien. I used my alien powers to wad up a truck and drop it on a cop car."

"I was just wondering." Chloe scratched her ear. "If it was, your secret would be safe with me." Her hand abruptly came down, slapping the cracked brown leather between them. "Hey, you think this has anything to do with those dead jocks?"

"_What_ dead jocks?"

"Over the past few weeks, three football players from the Class of '89 have turned up dead. The coroner's report labeled them as lightning strikes, but one of them was found inside a building."

"Maybe it was a really tall building."

Chloe laughed and Davis ruffled her hair. "You're in a good mood. Did Lana Lang invite you to the Spring Formal?"

"No, no, I am still regrettably stag and those dancing lessons are still a poor investment."

"Oh, that's… too bad. You know what'd be weird? If the two of us went together. Not even together, just at the same time."

"I don't know, that could be fun…"

"Great! When are you picking me up?"

"Uh… six?"

"Great!" Chloe smiled – she had a really nice smile – and the bus lurched to a stop. Like part of the same jerky motion, Chloe's lips shot against his, then she was running for it. Davis couldn't figure out how much was fear and how much was exhilaration.

"Uh, what just happened?" he asked Pete.

"Brother, you just got hit by the Sulli-Van."

* * *

Clark pushed through the cornstalks, feeling his armor crinkle around him. He didn't need it, but it showed solidarity with his men. He still refused the headgear. His own eyesight was better than the commandoes' visors.

He still remembered his father's reaction the first time he had told Lionel about his powers. The slow creak of the letter opener moving up his arm, finally growing dull against his skin. Then the battery of tests probing his limits, his gifts. He might have been driven mad if it weren't for his father, always there, always comforting him. Telling him how special he was. How he had a great destiny.

Clark shook himself free of the memory. He could hear clearer, see further, and fight harder than any man alive. He was a hero right out of Greek myth. And he had a quest as pernicious as Hercules ever had.

He pushed another cornstalk aside. To his senses, the other men were stomping everywhere, making enough noise to be heard from space. It could get on anyone's nerves.

He flanked the man whose heartbeat he'd heard, coming out of the crops to see it was a farmboy strung up like a scarecrow. African-American. Someone had a very poor understanding of racial relations. Clark came up behind him. "Where's Creek?"

"Wha? Who's there?"

"You want down, tell me where Creek is."

"Who's Creek?"

Clark held the picture in front of his face. "Jeremy Creek."

Hanging there all evening had taken its toll, but the kid jerked to life. "You've gotta stop him! He said he was going to the school dance, I think he's gonna hurt someone!"

"Don't worry about it."

Clark tore a palm-sized paper slip from a box on his belt, pulled off the Band-Aid pad, then pressed the chloroform to the kid's mouth and nostrils. Once he stopped struggling, Clark pulled apart his ropes.

"Get him to a hospital."

"What about you?" one of the men asked.

"You'd only slow me down."

* * *

Chloe had never suspected it would be so nice. Her feelings (if any) for Davis were a big sticky morass of Don't Go There and he was so repressed she wondered if the Kents were closet Bible bashers. He always seemed to hold tight to his feelings, only ever favoring her with a half-smile or a dull chuckle. But ever since that cathartic blast to Whitney's jaw, it was like he'd unleashed the beast. Maybe he'd go all caveman on her. Wouldn't that be fun.

But all she'd expected was for him to get her punch and mock what passed for fashionistas in Smallville. But then the DJ had started a slow number and he'd asked her to dance and then they were so close, nothing between them, no secrets. Only, she could think of one thing she'd never told him for fear he would think she was some kind of freak.

The song ended, the AV club scrambled to find another, and Chloe stayed with Davis on the dance floor. "Can I show you something?"

"Right now?" Davis asked.

"Well, it can wait."

The music started up and the student body began to groove, for lack of a better term, to Backstreet Boys.

"No, now's good."

Chloe led him by the arm out of the gym and out under an open-walled walkway. The night was as cold as it was beautiful. Chloe clung to Davis for warmth and because she could.

Jeremy Creek watched them break away from the party and into the school. They looked like a cute couple. He was glad he didn't have to kill them.

Rubbing on the now-healed skin where ropes had once cut across him, he went to the water main. Once the sprinklers were on, he would let the power out, the path of least resistance. It was too late for Smallville, but maybe this could serve as a warning. Maybe _now_ they'd understand his pain.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Creek spun around. The face went with the powerful voice. Square jaw, perfect cheekbones, Aryan-blue eyes. He was dressed all in black like some kind of cat burglar, with the metal links on his handcuffs the only color.

"Perfect. Another jock."

"I did play a mean game of lacrosse." Clark watched with rapt fascination as Creek's hands lit up electric blue. "I'm not here to fight you, Jeremy. I'm here to help you. You've had your revenge, now what? Blow up the school? You'll be hunted down like a dog. Or, you could be a hero."

"What're you talking about?"

Clark looked to Creek's right. When he exhaled, ice formed on the brick wall. "You're not the only one with powers. There are others like you. Want to meet them?"

* * *

"Chloe, what is all this?" Davis's hand ran over the titles of print-outs, newspaper clippings, and photos overflowing from the corkboard.

"Some would call it an oversized scrapbook." Chloe forced herself to be as cool for Davis as she had been for her mirror. "I call it the Wall of Weird." She taped up an article on Whitney's truck to the wall. "It all started with the meteor shower. Since then, weird things keep _happening_."

Davis picked up a photo of himself as a child, his eyes dotted with red marker.

"You… kinda got me interested in all this weirdness. If it weren't for you, this probably would just have been a phase." Chloe pulled the curling Polaroid out of his hand. "I wanted to cure you."

"I didn't need a cure. I needed a friend." Davis touched her cheek.

"Oh god!"

Davis pulled his hand back. "What?"

"I thought you were going to—did you know Red-Eyes sightings tend to increase at the full moon?"

"Red-Eyes?"

"And usually on my dad's property. You wanna help with my stake-out? It's not a school night, but I'll totally understand if you have homework."

"No, I'm not—I'd love to. Chloe, are you okay?"

She seemed winded from saying so much. "Great! You think Pete's here yet? Let's go check on Pete!"

Davis left the Torch offices with his frazzled friend. Sometimes, it felt like Chloe Sullivan was from another planet.

* * *

Lex strolled into his study to find his fencing partner waiting for him. He took the towel from around his neck and gave his wet scalp a drying rub. Giving the belt of his mauve bathrobe a firm tug, he stepped out of his slippers and onto the carpet, letting it absorb his dripping. "Gina, you seem to have put on weight."

Clark smiled behind his helmet's mesh. "What's the matter, Warrior Angel, finally willing to acknowledge the supremacy of Devilicus?"

Lex hid his grin as he turned to pick up a foil. When he turned back around, his face was featureless as marble. "Fencing's a game of skill and strategy, Clark. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer an arm wrestling match?"

"A lot's changed since we were kids, Lex."

Lex surged forward, scoring on Clark's chest before the younger Luthor could even more. "I doubt that. En garde, by the way."

"Thanks for the warning." Clark backed up, holding his foil warily. "You know if you apologized, Dad would have you back in Metropolis before the day was out?"

Lex pressed another attack, this time meeting stiff resistance. "I'm not apologizing for his overprotectiveness."

"He didn't want me to find out I was adopted from _you_," Clark batted Lex's foil aside and reversed his sword to whack Lex's side. "Can you blame him?"

"Same old Clark, never looking under the surface. I'm surprised Lionel hasn't ground that out of you."

"Trust?"

"Naiveté."

Clark blocked Lex's violent lunge. Momentum smashed them together, blade against blade. "I trust you." Clark broke the lock, throwing Lex on his back. "Father doesn't see your potential, but I do. There's so much we can accomplish together, as brothers." He stood over Lex, offering his hand. "Father's opening a Special Project division here. I'd like your help."

"Are you asking me or informing me?"

"That depends on your answer."

Lex took his brother's hand. "What's this division called?"

"33.1."

* * *

  


* * *

Author's notes: Dun dun DAAA! Yeah, now we're kicking into high-gear.

I never wanted this to be "retelling season one, only Davis is better than Clark because he's nicer to Chloe" (because we all know that's not true, right? *crickets chirp*). One of the things I wanted to fix was how you have people getting exposed to Kryptonite all the time and yet, nobody notices. So either all these meteor freaks suddenly start popping up when Clark enters high school or someone's doing a cover-up. Ladies and gentlemen, Lionel Luthor.

It's important to note that many of the children who were exposed to Kryptonite during the meteor shower are coming of age in 2001, after being 'benign' like Chloe was. Good thing they won't be exposed to any heightened emotions in high school, right? So, exponential increase in number of meteor freaks, but _someone_ already knows about them. Science wank over.

Point is, I wanted a lot of differences and one of them would be that Davis does more than just refight Clark's battles with better abs. I didn't want it to just be "Davis is good and Clark is evil." Lex was raised by Lionel and he wasn't pure evil, at least not when the show was good, so it doesn't make sense that Clark would be unambiguously evil. He's fucked up, he has the world's worst relationship with his brother (although there is love there… Clark didn't _have_ to involve him in 33.1, and I wonder what Lionel's reaction to that is…), but at heart, he's no more evil than Davis was.

Which isn't to say he doesn't do bad things. Ominous note…

Oh, and that was Pete Ross as the scarecrow. Don't know if you got that. I give him pagetime when I can, but I must warn you Pete fans that he's not the biggest character in this.

(The one Pete fan on the internet: "Damnit!" *punches wall*)

One fun thing to write was the scene where Chloe shows the Wall of Weird to Davis. In the pilot (which is when this chapter chronologically takes place, in case you haven't guessed because you're on peyote), it's a show of trust, her unveiling this passion project knowing it could get her laughed out of school. So, naturally, Clark derides her for not showing it to him earlier. Wonder why she didn't…

Turning _that_ bit of asshattery into a quirky romantic gesture, albeit an abortive one, was a fun bit of subversion, as was having Chloe attribute her interest in all things weird to her brush with Davis (it wasn't, as you may have noticed from her canon characterization, but it shows how highly she places Davis's importance to her). But wait, what is this Red Eyes of which you speak?

Next time, _Metamorphosis_! Lois Lane! 33.1! Buffy the Vampire Slayer! And maybe an early sighting of Davis protecting tiny blonde? Well, if you're good, we'll see.


	4. Chapter 4

Chloe was at her Mac, putting the finishing touches on her article about Jeremy Creek, who'd come out of his coma weeks before his old tormentors started dropping like flies hitting a bug zapper. Lois lounged on Chloe's bed, reading Teen Beat's cover story on Clark Luthor with the occasional lick across her lips. Or at least, she had been.

"So let me get this straight. You didn't show him your bra, you showed him _the Wall of Weird?_" Lois howled.

"I don't see what my bra has to do with anything," Chloe replied off-handedly.

Ever since flunking out of VMI ("Disciplinary reasons my ass," Lois had snapped, "they're biased against women!"), Lois had been attending Smallville Community College. The General had virtually put her under house arrest with the Sullivans, not wanting a repeat of the Lucy episode.

Since then, Lois had been Chloe's babysitter, tutor (though it tended to work the other way around), and now best friend. She even helped out with the Torch occasionally, although mostly in finding new and exciting ways to mess up spell-check.

"Chloe. _Chloe_. **Chloe**. We all have our weird bits. I rate my gay porn collection on a scale of one through ten. But I don't tell people that on a first date."

"It wasn't a date. We went to the dance as friends."

"I'm going to stop you right there, because I think I see your problem. Chloe, he's a teenage boy. Teenage boys are dumb and horny. For some people, that's a turn-off. You can turn it to your advantage. Say he comes over to help you catch the red-eye. Answer the door in my old cheer uniform, tell him you were trying it on."

"I don't want to come off as desperate"

"You asked him out on a _monster hunt._ You _define_ desperate."

"I don't want to brainwash him. I just want to know how he feels about me."

Lois sat down on Chloe's desk with a smile. "Of course he likes you. I've been babysitting the two of you for depressingly long enough to know that. Just be your Sullivan-Lane self and charge in. If he doesn't feel the same way, at least you can stop wondering about it. And if he does, you can still borrow my cheerleading outfit."

* * *

Davis put his flashlight under his chin. "You really think there's some monster walking the cornrows of Smallville?"

Chloe kept her flashlight trained on her father's crops. "Just a green-eyed monster."

"Chloe, my roguish good looks are nothing to be jealous of."

Chloe turned around, shining her flashlight in Davis's face. The hunt for Red-Eyes was on hold. "I'm talking about the evil eye you've been giving Sean Kelvin since he got my number."

"You deserve better, Chlo."

"Like who?"

Davis looked around uncomfortably. "You shouldn't settle, that's all I'm saying. The guy's a dog."

"And I should wait for someone more honorable."

Davis covered her flashlight's glass with his hand, getting the light out of his eyes. The subdued glow came only from his flashlight, pointed at the ground. "Yeah."

"Someone who respects me."

"Exactly."

"Someone I can trust."

She took his flashlight in her hand and switched off. Now there was only the moonlight bleaching Chloe into silver, highlighting the curves of her face.

An epiphany struck Davis like lightning. Chloe liked him. _Liked_ him. And she wanted him to kiss her. And he had no idea whether he wanted to… Okay, he wanted to, but was it just because she was a pretty girl and his friend who he wanted to be happy and really pretty—beautiful, even—and smart and funny and a good friend and _suddenly something pushed through the crops, colliding with Davis._ They hit the ground, then were caught in the beam of Chloe's flashlight.

She recognized the moment-killer. "Greg? Greg Arkin?"

He was on his feet in an instant. "Run!"

Davis heard a helicopter's rotors, people rustling through the crops. They scattered.

* * *

Gabe Sullivan watched the searchlights scanning the fields outside his home and thought _if only this could happen every time my daughter wheedled her way into 'hunting Red-Eyes' with a boy alone in the middle of the night._

"Can't you do something?" Chloe asked, waving the butcher knife she'd armed herself with for emphasis. "This is private property."

"Yeah, try telling them that. I've called the police. They'll handle it."

"We should make a break for it," Davis said. He was watching the commandos through the windows, catching brief glimpses of them as they moved through the cornstalks. "You really think anyone with that much hardware is going to back down because someone flashes a badge at them?"

"Assuming they aren't the government," Chloe said. "Or Luthorcorp… same difference. I'm going to go check on Greg. Being hunted like that must've scared him out of his mind."

She went upstairs, leaving Gabe alone with Davis. Davis sat down, hands on his knees. "Why Greg Arkin, that's what I don't understand. Don't tell me someone's after his bug collection…"

Chloe screamed. In a flash Davis had hurdled the banister and was up the stairs, Gabe trailing after him. They found the shower still running and the window broken open. Chloe was nowhere in sight.

Davis crouched down to pick up Chloe's knife. The blade was covered in blood.

"Oh God." Gabe blanched. "Is that—"

"No, it's not Chloe's." Davis shut off the shower spray.

"How can you tell?"

"I don't know, I just—" He prodded something fleshy in the drain. "He's molting."

"_What?_"

"What ever has your daughter, it's not Greg Arkin anymore. I'm gonna need to borrow your car."

* * *

Chloe woke up to the feel of blood trickling down her scalp. She remembered going upstairs, hearing the shower running, than Greg had come out… saying something about how the men in black had caught him feeding, then more about molting and breeding, but all she could process was the skin hanging off him in girthy swathes. Then he'd come at her and she'd plunged the knife into him, but Greg had only smiled…

She looked around. She was in the old mill; she could recognize it by the meteor rocks lighting up the darkness. Something warm and sticky coated her back and Chloe tried not to ponder the irony of her plan for Davis.

"Hey, Chloe, do you like kids?" Greg asked.

She struggled. Couldn't break free. She was trapped like a fly in a web.

He tapped her face with two fingers like a pair of antenna. "Mm. You're no Lana Lang, but you'll do. That's what evolution is all about, adaptation."

"That's why you're doing this?"

Greg shrugged meagerly. "Biologically, we only exist to pass on our genes. And our children will be stronger, faster, better. In their new world, it won't matter what clothes you wear or what car you drive."

"Greg." Her fingers were nearing her lips. "Greg, fight it. This isn't you."

"It is now. I'm a predator. Who would want to fight that?"

The door to the mill flew open, lock splintered. Davis stepped inside. "Let her go, Arkin."

Greg hissed and vomited webbing over Chloe's face. "I'm not sure what insect starts a mating ritual that way, but you gotta admit, it's kinda cool."

Davis rushed him. Greg lunged, hitting Davis with both feet. Kent flew back, tumbling into the green glow of the meteor rocks.

"It's my nature, Davey. Red in tooth and claw. I couldn't fight it, even if I wanted to. And why would I want to?"

"Because it's gonna end with my foot on your throat." Davis tried to sit up, his legs went out from under him. He felt the same nauseating drowsiness start up that had made him vomit on Lana Lang's shoes. _No! Not now…_ Numbness spread up his arms, veins stood out on his flesh…

"You don't look so good, Davey. That's what I hated about being human. So damn fragile…"

Davis was going into shock. His eyes rolled back in his head as a grand mal seizure wrecked his body.

Greg put a foot on his throat. "You can't fight nature, Davey." He pressed down. Davis went still.

Rubbing his hands together, Greg turned back to Chloe. A hand grabbed him by the ankle.

Greg turned to see Davis, no longer pale and sweaty but flushed with a gray hue, his eyes tinted red. Greg tried to jump, but Davis held on. He slammed Greg back down, splattering gravel, then grabbed a chunk of meteor rock. Greg's scream was all too human as Davis brought the Kryptonite down on his head.

It took a moment of blood-soaked reality for Davis to realize what he'd done. Greg laid under him, skull caved in, limbs curling inward. Without conscious thought, he wiped down the meteor rock and stood up. Greg was still… churning.

Davis stepped back as thousands of beetles burst out of Greg, leaving only his skin and clothes. Davis wondered if it were flammable.

* * *

After checking on Chloe, Davis ran back to Gabe's pick-up and the bottle of motor oil he'd seen in the back. The rest was easy. Why should he and Chloe have to suffer through the scrutiny of an investigation? Greg had been the one at fault. He'd reaped what he'd sown.

Once Davis had started the fire, he ripped Chloe out of her cocoon. She regained consciousness as he carried her outside. "Davis?"

"It's alright. I've got you."

* * *

Lex had the urge to run a hand over his bald scalp, a childhood tic that he hadn't indulged in years. It wasn't as if he was ever going to feel his hair growing back.

Something about the elevator ride into the depths of the Luthorcorp Building had him on edge. Perhaps it was how at ease Clark seemed. Lex had always sensed a certain… un-belonging about his brother. A skittish reluctance that made Lex feel uncomfortably superior. Here, Clark was in his element and Lex was on foreign soil.

"You know how Father keeps going on about how Smallville is your test? He wasn't lying to you, Lex. For the last decade, Smallville has been the biggest science project in the world."

"Testing what?" Lex asked as the elevator rumbled to a stop.

Clark smiled and ushered Lex through the open doors.

Level 33.1 was a long corridor with glass doors on either side. A security camera monitored them getting out, and Lex noted a card slot on the elevator panel. He tried one of the doors. It wouldn't budge.

"This is what you've been running, Clark? A prison?"

"A containment facility. For those with gifts that would go unappreciated by the masses. Here's someone you might remember." They stopped at a glass door. Behind it, Jeremy Creek turned the pages of a book. Lex remembered seeing him twelve years ago, strung up in a cornfield. He looked worse now.

"The meteor shower," Lex realized.

"It wasn't just a bunch of rocks. The meteors came from a world that was destroyed in a dimensional shift; think of it was the universe's biggest particle accelerator. The debris was bombarded into the island of stability. An entirely new element: Kryptonite."

"It changed him."

"He can absorb and redirect energy. Imagine how useful that ability will be, once we know how to recreate it."

A burst of flame flared up behind Lex. He whirled to see it breaking against a glass door.

"Coach Arnold is having a little more trouble adapting to his new circumstances," Clark quipped. "You'd think winning his 200th game would mollify him a little."

"So what's the endgame here, Clark? You're just going to… keep them, is that it?"

"They'll be released. Once we're done with them."

Lex gave in, ran a hand over his smooth scalp. "What gives you the right?"

Clark smiled brightly. "It's my destiny."

"I thought Luthors made their own destiny."

Clark's smile was rictus-still. "As you're so keen to point out, I'm not really a Luthor."

Lex remembered. How could he forget the decision that resulted in his present exile? The scary part was he couldn't bring himself to regret it, and he knew his father wouldn't have either.

"Let's not fight, Lex. With Kryptonite, we can save the world. We can make our father proud. I don't want to do that alone."

He offered his hand.

Lex took it.

"Looks like the Luthor boys are here to stay."

* * *

On Buffy, the Slayer was facing down a squad of improbably martial artsy vampires. Chloe ate her precious buttered popcorn, throwing a kernel at Davis's mouth everytime the 'drinking game' said to.

"You know, you could just make me a bowl of popcorn. Or share."

Chloe rolled her eyes at Davis's suggestion. "I am sharing. God, are those geeks really going to be the Big Bads? Why does every show suck once it hits its sixth season?"

"You think that's bad, imagine when it reaches eight."

"They'll probably make Buffy a lesbian or something."

"Yeah, and then everyone gets married."

"I hate wedding episodes. If I ever get married, promise me you'll start some drama at the 'forever hold your peace' part. No one _ever_ objects at weddings anymore."

"I promise."

Dawn was annoying. Chloe threw a kernel at Davis's mouth. It added to the growing collection in his lap.

"What's wrong, Davis? Is the mix of teen angst and supernatural adventuring not working for you?"

"I guess I'm just… pondering the moral implications of it."

Chloe set her popcorn aside. "Yeah, all that premarital sex… boo!"

"That's not what I mean. All those demons, they have souls. What Buffy's doing is like vigilante justice."

"What's she supposed to do, tie 'em up and leave them for the cops? They have to be stopped. They're monsters."

"And you don't think she ever feels bad about killing vamps?"

"I read a fanfic once where Buffy had a good cry over that, but then she remembered that by slaying, she was keeping all her friends safe."

"Ah, fanfic, Chloe? You know that's just poorly-written gay porn."

"Some of it's well-written," Chloe said defensively. "Hey, stupid question, but you're not still thinking about the mill, are you?"

Davis sighed. Chloe scooped a handful of popcorn off his stomach and laid down on top of him, popping it kernel by kernel into his mouth and watching him chew.

"Feeling better?"

"It comes and goes," he admitted.

"You couldn't save him. After he set that fire, you were lucky to get me out. If you'd gone back in, you would've died. And I like you not-dead." She set her head down on his chest. "You're more snuggly this way."

"But do you think Arkin deserved to die?"

Chloe scoffed. "He ate his mother! I know all life is precious, yadda yadda, but I'm not sending any flowers to the funeral. You?"

"No." Davis wrapped his arms around her. "None at all."

* * *

Author's notes: Something I always thought was weird about Smallville was how sometimes Clark is all "RARRR MUST NEVER KILL, KILLING IS WRONG AND ONLY BAD PEOPLE KILL!" and other times he'll somehow accidentally kill someone (which, you know, if he really valued life _that_ much, you'd think he'd be more careful. At least stop flinging people around thirty feet in the air all willy-nilly) and the next thing you know he's moping over… Lana.

And that's just not how anyone with a modicum of morality should act. If you kill someone, even if it's inadvertent, even if it's self-defense, you should _feel_ something. That's why so much of military training is conditioning soldiers and dehumanizing the enemy. Because when you kill someone, _it means something_.

On the other hand, LANA IS MOVING AWAY FOREVER, OH NOES!!!

So here we have Davis actually stopping and considering the implications of this new path he's going down. He's taken a life. He's concealed it (which Clark has admittedly never "done", but how many times have you seen him go up to some Kryptofreak's parent and said "Here's how your son really died, sir"?). And that's not going to go away. Does this make Davis a more moral individual than Clark? Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say YES IT DOES.

Also, everyone say hi to Lois Lane. I know she has her detractors, but fuck it, I like her better than Pete. This allows me to give Chloe a sounding board so I can liven up the "Chloe thinks it over" scenes with some banter, but without opening the can of worms that is Chloe/Pete. Obviously, the dead butterfly that is Clark Luthor and/or Davis Kent has caused Lois to end up in Smallville. Either that or a wizard did it.

Anyway, you can relax, Chloe is still our leading lady, it's just this fic isn't going to be a sausage-fest. If that's your thing, fandom has more sausage-fests than Germany in October (ba dum _tish!_). You've trusted me this far, trust me not to write Lois Lane as fabricating articles for the Daily Planet or fucking her editor or encouraging Clark to dance with Lana at an event he went with Chloe to or… well, you'll be pleased to know that with Chloe's help, Lois has accessed her latent overachiever and is sending out loads of college applications to schools with good journalism programs.

Oh, and chronologically, this chapter covers 1x02 Metamorphasis and 1x03 Hothead. Oh yes, I'm keeping track of the continuity in a Smallville fic. Yes, I have a problem.


	5. Chapter 5

Talking with Chloe was strange now, a foreign language. Before they could talk for hours, launching volleys when the other paused for breath, debating everything from Star Wars to the Panama Canal. Now, knowing how Chloe felt, Davis's words seemed to be floating in lead. He wanted to kiss her, well, not kiss her, but something, only it was like walking on Meteor Lake now that it had frozen over. He was never sure of his footing.

_Just say it, you pussy, work out the details later._ He opened his mouth just as Chloe opened hers. "You go first," he said, grateful for the dodge.

"Sean Kelvin asked me out."

They were in the cafeteria, lunches pooled between them, sitting on the table and looking out at the student body. Davis's eyes automatically scanned for Sean, found him wolfing down steaming chili. Looked pale.

"Well, he seems like a real cool guy."

"Yeah, I was going to turn him down, but what else do I have to do on a Saturday?"

"Yeah. And hey, free food."

"Actually, I think we're splitting the tab."

"Well, have fun."

"You too. When you…"

"Catch up on chores, I guess."

"Cool. So, what'd you want to tell me?"

"I forget."

* * *

Davis hammered another fencepost into the ground. Despite the October chill he was stripped to the waist, kept warm by his constant activity. In fact, he felt like he was boiling.

Jonathan Kent pulled into the driveway, surprised to find Davis still working outdoors. He'd been working since Jonathan had left for Metropolis, hours before. "You been inside any?"

"Nothing needs doing inside."

"Son, we both know business hasn't been booming lately, but working yourself into the hospital won't do a lick of good. Get in the car, we'll go see what your mother has for dinner."

* * *

Davis stuffed a slice of steak into his mouth, wolfed it down in three snaps of his jaw, then swallowed a bite of baked potato whole. Five spoonfuls of casserole joined it, then a long pull off a thick mug of water.

"I'll tell you to slow down before you choke yourself, but obviously that's not a problem," Martha said, staring in disbelief.

Davis didn't hear her. He was disemboweling the pork chops.

"He's a growing boy," Jonathan said. "I went through the exact same thing at his age."

"Maybe not the exact same thing," Davis said, mouth full. He swallowed, wiped his jaw with a napkin. "I didn't think I was hungry, but as soon as I saw all this food it was like I hadn't eaten in months."

"I'd take that as a compliment," Jonathan told his wife.

"Davis, you know if anything seems… different or confusing to you, you can tell us."

Davis helped himself to another steak. "Well, there is one thing." He began to saw into the meat with great aggression. "Chloe and Sean Kelvin are going on a date."

"Rose Greer told me about him, isn't he the one who broke Tina's heart after their double date with Lana and Whitney?"

"Yeah. She's the smartest girl in school, so what does she see in that—" Davis's knife scraped the plate.

"Son, let me tell you a little story about when your mom and I were dancing around each other."

"Aw, dad, not another platitude."

"It's not a platitude. It's a story."

"You notice he never tells fables?" Martha quipped.

"Or anecdotes," Davis noted.

Jonathan cleared his throat and the youngest Kent popped more steak into his mouth, chin braced on his hand for the long haul.

"Now, Martha and I weren't what you'd call official, but I considered us—"

"Unofficial," Martha said.

"Then one day I see her chatting to this chowderhead…"

"He wasn't a chowderhead, his name was Kyle Tippet and he was very sweet."

"Do you want to tell the story? Well, they were laughing and brushing against each other and I tell you, I wanted to knock that fella's block off for making time with my girl. But I didn't!" He quickly assured Martha. "What I did do was realize how special your mother was and how I wasn't the only guy that could see that. So the next day I went to her and said 'Martha, you are going with me to the movies on Friday and that's final!'"

"I recall there being flowers," Martha said. "And poetry."

"Rumors of poetry aside, do you see what I'm getting at here?"

"I think so."

"This Kelvin kid, if he's half the dog I hear he is, Chloe could get really hurt. You should tell her how you feel."

"I don't know how I feel…"

"Don't you?"

He felt less when she wasn't around. With her, he felt safe, sure, loved, happy. He wanted to keep her safe. He wanted to hold her and not let go.

"I think she's working late at the Torch. I should check up on her. Tell her… something." He got up, left the table.

Came back. "Can one of you drive me?"

* * *

Davis had never realized how creepy the school was after hours. Early dusk turned it into a sea of darkness with islands of light, scattered and distant. Even the janitors had left. Hearing only the echo of his own footsteps, he went to Chloe's offices.

No comforting light. No reassuring stream of typing. He was about to call Chloe's cell when he heard something softly crumple under his heel. He looked down. It was a rose petal. In the dark, they surrounded him like traps. _Kelvin._

That son of a bitch! Davis felt feelings so irrational they seemed to _make more sense_ than the rest of the world. Loss. Violation. Anger. Such anger. It was the purest emotion he'd ever felt, burning away all contradictions, making everything so simple.

He followed the trail, after Chloe, after Sean. He didn't know what he was going to do, but his footfalls sounded like bombs dropping. Or maybe he could just hear them more clearly. It seemed to Davis that he'd never thought so clearly in his life.

Then he heard a scream, _Chloe's_, and all he could see was red.

Davis broke into a run, his passage scattering rose petals like so much chaff. The world obligingly blurred at the edges. He thundered through the doors to the swimming pool and saw Chloe, one leg trapped in the frozen pool. Sean was walking across the ice. Deathly pale. Almost upon her. Both were still as statues.

If there were any room in Davis's mind, he would have realized they weren't moving slow, he was moving fast. But he was operating on an instinctual level now, and someone had threatened his mate. Someone was going to die.

Chloe felt a sudden breeze whip her hair around and when she turned, Kelvin was gone.

Davis slammed Kelvin through a set of double doors and crushed him into the school's trophy case. Sean's head smashed a picture of Jonathan Kent winning the state championship. Whatever speed Davis had briefly accessed, it was spent. The world spun forward.

He locked a hand around Sean's throat and jerked him upward, raking his back on broken glass. "What were you doing to Chloe!?"

"Relax, Kent. I was just trying to get warm." And like he'd stuck his hand in a freezer, Davis felt Sean's icy pallor travel down his fingers, all the way to the wrist. His hand _froze_, the very warmth of its blood sucked into Kelvin. Davis pulled away, leaving a layer of skin behind. He saw his reflection in the ice that had become his hand. His eyes were glowing a hellish red.

Davis turned, horrified by what he'd seen, and his hand struck a row of lockers. It broke. Fragments tumbled through the air in brief constellations, rained down like hail. Davis folded over, stunned. His hand was gone. He'd never shake his father's hand, never run it through Chloe's hair. He was a freak.

Then, with that burst of rage, blood leapt from the stump. It coalesced around the bones that shot from his flesh like daggers, becoming veins, tendons, muscles, skin. Davis watched his new hand become a fist.

"I thought I was the only one…" Sean muttered.

Davis rose to his full height, flexing his hand in growing acceptance.

"Cool power. You're like me, aren't you? You have a hunger in you too, that's how it works! I can see it in your eyes. You have to kill people, I have to stay warm. We're the same. Hey, we should go to the Icecapades together!"

Davis turned on him. "Enough with the ice jokes."

"Oh. So that's the way it's gonna be. You're gonna pretend there's a difference between us."

Davis fished into his pocket. "There is a difference." He raised his hand above his head and flicked the lighter on. "I'm still breathing."

The flame hit the smoke alarm. The sprinklers came on. And Sean Kelvin felt his body instinctively pulling the meager warmth from the water, freezing it as soon as it touched his skin. He screamed as he was frozen solid.

Davis watched the statue blink. "You played a good game, Sean…" He tapped Sean's eye. The iceman tilted backward, shattering on the ground like fine china. "Too bad you froze up in the last quarter."

* * *

Davis was absorbed in pushing the melting remains of Sean Kelvin around with his toe when Chloe freed herself from the ice. She had grabbed a fire ax and gone after Davis while dialing 911. Chloe had just hung up when she found him.

"Davis?"

His back went rigid, ashamed. "Chloe." He didn't turn around. "You okay?"

"Dandy. Where's Kelvin?"

"He… got away. Made this ice to slow me down. How weird is that?"

She threw her arms around him, yielding to his protection. "God! Arkin, Arnold, now Kelvin… how many of these freaks are out there?"

"I don't know." It felt wrong. She was treating him like some kind of hero. Couldn't Chloe see what he'd done, what he _was_?

He held her and pretended he wasn't surprised at how light she was, so soft and so warm. Then he felt something in him reacting to Chloe. She was no longer hugging him so much as pressing against him, then her hair brushed his cheek as her head turned. Davis's stomach twisted at the same time his heart did double-time. Now? She had to feel this way now?

Uncertain, yearning, her lips moved toward his. He turned at the last moment, letting her kiss his cheek. Not now. Not here.

"Well," she said, breaking away from him. "Looks like I've got a guardian angel."

Davis heard only the ice cracking under her foot. "Something like that."

* * *

* * *

* * *

Author's notes: Chronologically, this chapter covers 1x04 X-Ray and 1x05 Cool.

Originally, there was a bit more of Davis's shame after killing Sean and then getting comforted/comforting Chloe, but Vagrant pointed out that it wasn't really working there, so I reworked into a more ambiguous, realistic decision. It feels a lot less clichéd to me now, how here he both wants to push Chloe away and at the same time _needs_ her.

Also, even though Coach Arnold wasn't accidentally killed in the course of fighting Clark (you know, the second guy Clark kinda manslaughtered there), canonically Chloe was investigating him and witnessed him using his powers. I figure he made an attempt at intimidating her before being captured by Clark, as seen in prior chapters.

So here we have Davis really starting to put his foot down on the accelerator, while Chloe finds herself more drawn to him, even as the chances of them connecting get slimmer. Ooh, shiny drama. And, obviously, there's nothing better than TINY BLONDE PROTECT. I wanted to balance out Davis's psychosis (for lack of a better word) with his human qualities, so he tells a joke and then is like "what the hell is wrong with me?" Just wait, Davis. You'll find out. And how much do I love the fucked-upness of Chloe wanting to kiss Davis while she's unknowingly _standing on Sean's corpse?_

We also get a look at Davis's bestial side, with it/him considering Chloe a mate (squee or squick, f-list, squee or squick?), and more of his powers. In Beast we saw Davis using superspeed, but that makes him a bit too powerful here, so I fanwanked that to Doomsday having short bursts of speed he can use to counter Clark's superspeed.

Next time, more murder (as always!), Chloggle, and Clark meets Lois (!).


	6. Chapter 6

Lois revised her list, deciding she hated retirement homes more than hospitals. They had the same kind of funky smell, but people went to hospitals to get better and only came to homes to die. She was definitely hoping she died before she got old.

One more minute of pill duty and she was going to need some herself. Going outside for a smoke, she nearly plowed into a rampaging Lana Lang. "Can you watch Harry a minute? I need to call my boyfriend. I try to be supportive of him."

"Yeah, sure thing." There was something wrong about that girl. While she went inside, Lois walked out on the pier over Lake Old People. Harry was looking out at the water. "Mind if I smoke?"

"Only if you share."

* * *

"How do you lose a retiree?" Chloe asked twenty minutes later.

"I don't know!" Lois checked behind the couch in Harry's room. "I turn my back for one minute and he goes from Harry Bolston to Harry Houdini! I am not a professional caregiver! Yesterday, I was watering the flowers! And he was in a wheelchair, how was I supposed to know it had rocket boosters or something?"

Chloe checked the last closet. "What are you even doing here? The last thing I recall you volunteering for was a bikini car wash."

"It saved the rec center, didn't it? And as for why I'm here—"

Clark Luthor poked his head in the door. "So I hear you're missing an old person?"

Lois didn't, as a rule, swoon. However, to Chloe's endless amusement, she did have a sort of sigh.

"Why? You have one you're willing to spare?" Chloe asked, just before Lois gave her leg a stout kick.

"I'm fresh out at the moment, but maybe if we all looked, we can find him before he crosses the border."

"Great idea!" Lois cheered. "Chloe, you search the building, Clark and I will look outside."

Chloe knew which way the wind was blowing. "You two enjoy the view."

"We'll look high and low," Clark promised smarmily.

That left Chloe alone. She fanned herself sardonically. "Any more like you back home, Mr. Luthor? Woof."

Then she noticed the picture on the wall and the darts sticking out of it.

"Okay, when did the vending machines start offering Haterade?"

* * *

Lois would give the retirement home one thing. It had some prime real estate. With the bright sunlight perfectly balancing the shady trees, the crisp green grass melting underfoot, and of course the company, Lois couldn't think of a better way to be looking for a dirty old man.

"So, what's the pride and joy of Luthorcorp doing washing bedpans?"

"Community service," Clark said smoothly.

Lois laughed. "Great, you're not one of those stuffy, humorless millionaires I hear so much about."

"I'm going to tell Bruce you said that. Really, if there's one thing my father's taught me, it's to always respect my elders." Pain flittered across Clark's face like an old war wound acting up. "Always."

"Yeah, my dad's a hardass too," Lois joked.

"_He's not like…_ he's not like that. He's just very… paternal. He wants me to live up to my full potential."

"Me, I think potential's useless if you can't decide what it's for. Hey, I might have it in me to be the best elephant masturbator in the world, who gives a crap? Ain't happening!"

"I think you have the potential to be much more than an elephant masturbator. You did just rope a multimillionaire into a geezer hunt. There are presidents who can't do that." Clark stopped, putting a hand on Lois's arm. "Lois?"

"Yes Clark? Can I call you Clark?"

"I think Harry has well and truly flown the coop. Looks like I owe you an old guy."

"I'll settle for dinner."

Clark's eyebrows made a bid for his hairline. "In Metropolis, girls don't tend to be so forward."

"Really? I'll have to leave it off the world tour. Pick me up at 8?"

"If I can fit in it between being a rich playboy."

"Right, let me give you my number—"

"Don't worry about it. I'll find you."

"I'm not listed."

"I'm rich. I have abilities beyond the ken of mortal men."

* * *

Davis felt the worn bone of the rosary beads travel through his fingers. His loft hardly had the atmosphere of a proper church, but it gave him privacy and solitude, both of which he valued. The rosary was a gift, passed down from his grandfather to his mother and now to him. Even as a boy, his mother's Catholicism had seemed so much more real than Jonathan's Protestant faith. The tenets of original sin and its forgiveness had resonated heavily upon him, and now, only with the rosary in hand did he feel peace replace the restlessness constantly driving him.

He counted off the decades as he read. "And the seventy returned again with joy, saying, 'Lord, even the devils are subject unto us through thy name.' And he said unto them, 'I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven. Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.'"

His phone buzzed and he answered it to be greeted with a blitz of Chloe-sounding noise. "Wait, what?"

He heard Chloe take a deep breath. "I think Harry Bolston has rejuvenated himself to go on a killing spree. And my cousin has a date with Clark Luthor."

"Okay, I believe the part about Harry Bolston, but what's this about Lois and Clark Luthor?"

"Never mind that, I just thought you ought to know!" She laid it out quick. The piano teacher that Harry Bolston, nee Volk, had failed to kill 60 years ago had been found dead. Chloe had found a dartboard with her picture on it in Harry's room. And Harry had gone missing near a pond full of meteor rocks.

"So you're sure he's young again and doesn't just have the proportionate strength and speed of pond scum?"

"Davis, one of his targets is your dad."

Davis felt the world turn red again. He fought to keep his clenching hand from crushing the phone. "One?"

"Jim Gage is the other. The cops won't believe me, I don't know what to do…"

"Okay, stay calm. You call my dad, warn him, I'll take care of Gage."

"Be careful. I'd… I'd hate to have to give your eulogy and explain how you got killed by an octogenarian."

* * *

Hood up, hands in his jacket pockets, Davis stalked the sidewalk outside Gage's house. _I probably look like a serial killer,_ he mused. _How apropos._

He dug into his pant pocket and felt the rosary. Didn't count it, just gave it a quick squeeze. This was God's work. He'd been given this… gift for a reason. No one ever said being a disciple would be easy. Look at Saint Paul. He'd been decapitated. Being apart from Chloe was one thing, but being apart from his head?

Maybe he should get a dog so he could look like he was taking it for a walk when he was hunting. Funny the things you thought about when you were about to kill someone.

_Chloe, sprawled at his feet, her cheek nuzzling his thigh, golden hair tickling his skin_ Stop it! He had to pay attention. A telephone repairman was at Gage's door. Could Volk have cut the phone lines, then posed as a repairman to get in? It's what Davis would've done. If he were a murderer. But he wasn't.

Not really.

Davis walked across the street and lawn, feeling the sprinkles dapple him. The water was cold when it hit his face. Not at all like blood. He wiped it off. Looked in the living room window. The repairman was going through his toolbox. _You're losing it, Davey. It's all in your head. C'mon. Demons? Superpowers? You've finally gone off the deep end, just like Chloe's mom. Remember the nightmares? You two are gonna be cellmates and she's gonna watch you, just like when you came over to play, because she knows. You're gonna abandon Chloe. Just. Like. Her. Mom._

"Shut up," Davis whimpered into the window, his breath fogging the glass. "I'm a hero. _A crusader._"

The repairman pulled piano wire out of his toolbox. Volk.

Davis crashed through the window as Harry looped the wire around his victim's neck. Davis punched him in the back of the head, then flung him away. Gage hit the floor, gagging.

"Get out of here!" He helped Gage up. "Run!"

The beast sensed danger. Davis turned just in time to feel cold steel enter his stomach. Volk had a knife.

"Kids these days." Volk twisted the blade.

Davis shoved him back with the last of his strength. It wasn't working. Why wasn't it working? He needed the Red.

This man was a murderer. He'd killed two people. He'd planned to kill Jonathan. Planned to take away Davis's father.

The Red welcomed him back with open arms.

Davis plucked the knife out of his body, the wound closing up as Volk watched in disbelief. "I'm sorry, was this what you were hoping for?" He drove the knife into Volk's chest. Again and again, manmade jaws snapping, flesh tearing and blood falling, the Red staying longer this time, demanding a greater sacrifice. Until Volk's entire chest was a bloody mess, ribs exposed, organs unspooling. Davis watched his heart beat its last.

The cops would arrive soon. He should wipe the knife down and leave it. _Bring gloves next time._ But he didn't want to let it go. He wanted a trophy to mark his victory, something to replace the scar he couldn't keep. Hiding it in his jacket, he ran.

* * *

"I hope I don't make you too self-conscious, but no one's ever taken me flying on a first date before," Lois said.

Clark shouted to be heard over the rotors. "If you know of a decent Italian restaurant in Smallville, I'm sure my pilot would appreciate the off-time."

"I mean you come on strong."

"You have a problem with strong men?"

"Not as long as they can back it up," Lois smirked.

Clark leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. "Lois, I think you and I are going to get along just fine." His phone rang.

"I think your bullshit detector might be pointed the wrong way."

Clark shot her a look as he answered. "Yes? Understood. Right away." He snapped the phone shut. "I'm afraid I have to step out for a moment. I'll catch up on the restaurant."

"How, with your teleporter?"

"Don't be ridiculous." He knocked on the pilot's compartment. "Bring us down." Turned back to Lois. "I'll run."

* * *

Blood ran down the walls and dripped from the ceiling. Even the hardened mercenaries who stood watch were unnerved by the ferocity of the killing.

Lex stepped around the pools of blood. "I don't think we'll be getting any answers out of him. What do you think, Clark? Good resume for your team?"

"Well, it depends on how many words he can type per minute." Clark knelt down to examine the body. "Cuts go deep, shows power. But that's not enough to prove he's a Kryp."

With a creaking-stretching-sucking _noise_, what was left of Harry Volk's body tanned like leather. The skin wrinkled, the hair turned white, but the blood stayed the same.

"But he was," Lex said, crouching beside Clark.

"So. The game's afoot."  


* * *

* * *

Author's notes: This chapter covers 1x06 Hourglass.

One of the really fun parts of doing an AU was tackling the Smallville mythos from Davis's unique perspective, not only with the guilt and the angst, but just in how he applies Occam's Razor and says "aliens? No, no, no. This must be angels and demons." Let's be honest, is "God wants me to protect the world" any crazier than "my dead alien British dad wants me to protect the world. Or conquer it. Our continuity is pretty fucked-up. Also, occasionally he's Lionel Luthor"?

And, unlike a lot of heroic narratives, what Davis is doing is taking a toll on him. Not just the clichéd "oh no, I can't be with Chloe, woe is me," but psychological depth charges being dropped into his subconscious. Which is why he ends up clinging to his faith as hard as he does, which you're going to see more of in coming chapters, how he justifies his actions to himself and how that changes him.

Since this was such a heavy chapter -- and as I said before, I don't want to just repeat season one with Davis as Clark – I decided to break things up with Lois and Clark meeting and hitting it off. Maybe create a little subconscious dislike of how Clark has it so easy while Davis is struggling so hard to stay afloat? You tell me, fandom. You tell me. There really is nothing like Clois banter, especially since the Chlavis isn't at a very bantery place right now.

Oh, and to all you people who don't like Clois... Ha! Too late, you're on part six of a 21-part story. Dare you stop reading? DARE YOU? Fine, your loss, see if I care.

Fun fact: Davis's inner dark side was originally referred to as the more prosaic "beast," but I like 'the Red'. It's more distinctive. Another rejected name was that Davis would call his inner demon "Screwtape." Tell me someone thinks that's clever. Anyway, the voice Davis gives to 'Doomsday' is an important character in its own right, so everyone, say hi.

You might have noticed some "absence makes the heart grow fonder" with Davis and Chloe this chapter. Even though they're at the core of the story, I didn't want them to overwhelm it, and I didn't want their relationship to get overexposed. But don't worry, next week is a Chlavis-palooza. It's a chapter I'm very proud of, a very important turning point, and in lieu of my usual little list of things to expect, please accept three lines of dialogue.

_"On the night Harry Volk died, you said you were going to protect Jim Gage. You were there."_

"I told you, Chloe, it was a commando, like the ones chasing Arkin."

"They had guns. Not knives."


	7. Chapter 7

"So you hear about Eric Summers?"

"No, what?"

"Got busted spying on Holly with a telescope. His parents are cracking down _hard_."

"Sucks to be him."

Davis paused, rolling the basketball in his hands. He felt the pebbled texture for another moment, then shot. The basketball soared over Pete's head and dropped through the hoop. Pete sighed as he went to retrieve it.

"As much fun as it is watching you enjoy your growth spurt, you know your parents are _gone_, right? We could be having a party."

Davis fought the melancholy's return, but it won, as it always seemed to. "Not much in the mood for a party."

"If it's a party, Lana'll be there. She's easy as pie." Pete tossed him the basketball. "I hear she's lost her virginity to half the football team. And blown the other half."

"How long have you known me?"

"What makes you think I was talking about you? I've got needs too, ya know. But hey, I'm sure we can arrange for Chloe to meet you there, super-virgin."

"Maybe I'm not in the mood for that either."

"Did you die while I wasn't looking? This is the same Chloe we're talking about, right?"

Davis tossed him back the basketball. "Three points. Go for it."

Pete looked over Davis's shoulder. "Hey, Davis?"

Davis turned around. A man in a sweat-soaked janitor's jumpsuit pushed his way out of the cornfield, stumbling, stirring up pockets of dust every third step. He blurred like a mirage.

"Earl?" Davis called.

Earl fell to his knees, biting down hard on his lower jaw as a sandstorm sprang up around him and died back down. "Davey… help me."

* * *

They took Earl to the pick-up, holding him down when he had a seizure, and finally they lifted him into the truck bed. Pete rode in the back with him, signaling Davis to stop when Earl had one of his seizures. Whatever caused them, they were powerful enough to make the truck swerve all over the road if it was in motion.

Finally, they got to the hospital. By then, Earl seemed to have it under control. He kept asking for Davis's father. A nurse on her cigarette break saw them, and then there were orderlies and a stretcher and Pete was filling out forms while Davis called his parents.

They arrived two hours later. Davis walked through the glass as his father talked to Earl. He'd been a farmhand several summers back, taking Davis to ballparks and movies while Jonathan was busy trying to perform a miracle with the lean farming season. They'd pulled through, like they always did, and Earl had gone off to work for

"Luthorcorp," Jonathan spat. "He was working at their fertilizer plant when there was an explosion. Ever since then, he'd been having those… jitters."

"Any idea what caused them?" Davis asked, carrying the coffee they were bringing back to Earl's room.

"He says that the explosion was on Level 3, where Luthorcorp was experimenting with meteor rocks."

"Meteor rocks?" Davis remembered the weird allergic reaction he'd had to them in Arkin's mill, the black-out. "Dad, when Earl has one of his attacks, it's like an earthquake. Could meteor rocks really do that?"

"That's what I wanted to know. I called the plant. They have no record of an explosion. Neither does OSHA or the newspapers. They won't even say there's a Level 3."

Davis took this in. "My class is going on a fieldtrip to the Luthorcorp plant in a few days. Maybe I could…"

"Davis, _no_. The Luthors have a lot of money, and you can bet they didn't get it by playing nice. People get that rich, they think the laws don't apply to them. If they did have something to do with what happened to Earl, what do you think they'd do to you?"

"I can handle myself."

"Since when? You're sixteen years old."

"I am, aren't I?" Davis held the tray out to Jonathan. "Can you take this? I need to make a phone call."

* * *

Every time they were on a bus, Davis and Chloe would ride pressed into the same bench, Chloe at the window, Davis with a foot up against the back of the seat in front of him, squeezed together by the road. Chloe's thigh against Davis's, his arm against the side of her breast. It was an awkward, secret piece of intimacy, broken only by Pete occasionally leaning over the seat in front of them to chat.

Over the last few weeks Davis had been pulling in on himself, like he was allergic to her and a touch could make him break into hives. He'd even sat across the aisle from her sometimes. But on the class field trip to Luthorcorp Fertilizer Plant 3, he took her hand and started talking like a dam had been built between them and just busted.

She agreed to it. Grudgingly.

"I will never forgive you for this," Chloe said as they got off the bus in front of the plant, where Chloe's father worked.

"It's not that bad," Davis said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "You do get to keep your firstborn son."

"Can we rethink that deal? I'm bad with kids anyway."

"Sorry, the ink's dry. Just pull the dear daughter crap on daddy dearest, we find Level 3, Luthorcorp pays the bill for Earl's cure, you get the story. And we get to snoop around, you love snooping around."

"I do. Though if you wanted to get me alone in a dark corner, all you had to do was ask."

Davis blushed and removed his arm. Even Chloe couldn't seem to believe she'd said it, but went on.

"Maybe play some Barry Manilow…"

They walked through Luthorcorp's front door and spent the next half hour listening to Gabe Sullivan's lame jokes and, in Chloe's case, praying for the sweet release of death. Then her prayers were answered.

"Could everyone please get down on the ground?" Earl mumbled. He lifted a gun, yelled "Now!"

* * *

Clark was so concerned he almost sped right into the staging area, but at the last second he looped around and slowed down in an alley. A minute later, he had pushed past the reporters and badgering parents to find his father.

Lionel Luthor was in the middle of a swarm of men, like different herds all drinking from the same watering hole. There were men in business suits, men in paramilitary uniforms, policemen, plant workers, and a chosen few reporters hanging on his every word.

"Dad!" Clark rushed to him. "I came as soon as I heard. Is it true Lex went in?"

"Give us a moment, please," Lionel said to the throng. It was not a request. Bodyguards sprung into action, giving Lionel and his son some breathing room.

"Is it true?" Clark insisted.

"Son, your brother chose to take a risk. I thought it reckless, but Lex is well past the point of caring what I think."

"Then let me go in there, I can take Jenkins down in two seconds!"

"Brave words, Clark, but we're surrounded by the press. Imagine if your secret came out. People would fear you, try to exploit you. And then all the protection I've given you would be for nothing."

"Of course, father. You're right. As always." And Clark looked through the plant's walls, searching for his brother.

* * *

Davis couldn't believe it. Earl Jenkins, his old friend, his father's right-hand man, was holding him and his whole class hostage. It seemed the perfect cap to his new life. Everything else was going to hell, why not Earl? The Red tempted him to stand up, step through the bullets, and put a stop to Earl's jitters for good. But Chloe was here, and he couldn't bear for her to look at him like he looked at himself in the mirror.

While Earl raved at the security camera, stuttering with jitters, Davis crept over to Chloe. "You alright?"

"Don't worry, I'm kinda getting used to insane mutant danger. This _is_ going to make a heck of a story."

He clapped her shoulder. "Good, you have your priorities in order."

"Davis, can I ask you a personal question?"

Davis bit his lip. This was it. Life-threatening situations made people think this way. He certainly thought of Chloe every time he killed. She was going to ask if he loved her. And what could he possibly tell her?

"On the night Harry Volk died, you said you were going to protect Jim Gage. You were there."

"I told you, Chloe, it was a commando, like the ones chasing Arkin."

"They had guns. Not knives."

Davis felt it like a punch in the gut. She knew. It was over. Any relief he might've felt was swallowed up by the knowledge that he'd lost her.

"Davis, I'm not accusing you of anything. I don't know what you're going through or where you are right now. But you're my friend. And nothing can change the way I feel about you."

He numbly felt his hand moving to her, pressing slowly against her cheek. She was real. That surprised him somewhat. Her eyes closed and she twisted a little under his touch, letting his hand roam down her face, her graceful neck, then over the delicate curve of her collarbone to feel her heart beat. Even. Sure. Safe.

"Nothing is going to happen to you," he promised. "I won't let it."

"Of course not. You're my guardian angel."

He buried his face in her hair. "Do you have any idea how special you are?"

She put her arms around his shoulders and squeezed. "When I'm with you, yeah."

Davis stood, letting her arms slowly lapse from touching him. He turned. "It's over, Earl. Let's end this before anyone gets hurt."

The gun pointed at Davis. "Sit down, Davey. I don't want to hurt you."

"I know you don't. And you're not going to." He put a foot forward. Another. "Put the gun down."

Earl quaked as another jitter hit him. "You don't want to do this."

"I know. I just don't have a choice." He took another step. The gun was against his chest. "You do. Put the gun down."

Earl screamed as another jitter hit him. His free hand shook out, knocking Davis across the room. The hostages screamed. Earl slammed his hands into the wall, feeding his vibrations into it. The room shook. Pipes ruptured, spewed smoke. Cracks split the floor, spreading toward the hostages.

Teeth gritted, Earl forced it down, leaving only the grit tumbling from the ceiling and the sound of slow applause.

"Very impressive, Mr. Jenkins," Lex Luthor said as he walked into the middle of the hostage situation. "Now if you're done holding up the class, how would you like to see Level 3?"

* * *

As soon as the double doors closed behind Earl, Davis moved like a bullet, its gunpowder ignited. He'd worried loose a pipe from the wall and slipped it into his sleeve; now he jammed it through the handles, barring the door so Earl couldn't double back. "Alright, everybody out! Exit's that way, don't stop until you see cops. **Go!**"

The hostages surged like one organism, stampeding down the hallway and streaming out the door. Davis looked around for stragglers, saw only one. Chloe. She was huddled on the floor.

Davis jogged to her side. "C'mon, Chloe, class dismissed."

She didn't move. A thought struck Davis, and he dropped next to her like the notion had drawn blood. Normally he was good at telling when someone was not breathing, but fear blurred his eyes and there was debris near her head, stained the same red as her sodden hair. He felt for her pulse, pressing her fingers into her flesh like he could push his hope into her and force her heart to beat.

It was him. He'd confronted Earl, he'd brought this on her…

He felt a pulse. Davis leaned down and kissed Chloe in brief gratitude. Scooped her up and carried her out the door. His heart still beat like a volcano erupting, both in fear for Chloe and in outrage for her. How dare Earl do this! There was no excuse. Davis's sympathy for him was dwindling quick, and it was only the weight of Chloe in his arms that pulled him back from the threshold. If it had been anything other than Chloe nearest to him, he would've torn it apart and not stopped there… _He who lives by the sword shall die by the sword._

He emerged into sunlight, blinding. A street festival of joyous reunions thrummed in front of him. He corralled Whitney away from a tonsil-cleaning by Lana. "Take her, don't set her down until you find an ambulance. I'm trusting you. Don't let me down."

The way Whitney took hold of Chloe, like she was a sleeping baby, and the way he promised he would take care of her, made Davis look at him in a kinder light.

"Davis, your eyes," Whitney said, jaw slack.

Davis looked at his reflection in a puddle. His eyes were a demonic red, like a fire within him was raging out of control. If that was the case, thinking of Chloe's blood was gasoline. Some of it was on his sleeve…

She stirred, called his name weakly. He couldn't let her see him like this, he couldn't be _near her_ like this. If he hurt her… But he already had hurt her. Him and Earl.

His parents saw him, called to him. He turned and walked back into the plant.

"Son, where are you going!?"

"Earl's still in there."

* * *

"This isn't possible," Lex said as the elevator jerked into motion. Jenkins had just hit a concealed button for the 3rd floor. A floor that shouldn't have existed.

"That's what I've been saying for the last _two years_." Jenkins dug the gun barrel deeper into Lex's skin. Lex didn't think he was going to use it, but all it would take was one spasm at the wrong time…

The elevator shook. Lex winced before he realized it was coming to a stop. The doors opened. A catwalk bridged a vast open space.

Lex shook his head. "Clark would've told me about this."

Earl prodded him with the gun. "Move."

Lex walked out onto the catwalk, his steps echoing mechanically. Clark couldn't have known. Could he? Of course, it would be just like Lionel to only trust his golden boy, the boy he handpicked instead of the one he was saddled with like some genetic disorder.

Lex turned to face Earl. "We've both been lied to. It's obvious we're in the same boat…"

"Boat? Buh-buh-boat? Lionel Luthor took everything from me! Now I'm going to take something from him."

Lex had time to think something vaguely blasphemous of Someone's idea of irony. Earl pointed the gun at Lex's head. Then another jitter twisted him into a ball and back again repeatedly, like a toy being broken. The gun flew out of his hand. Lex watched the painful contortions, fascinated. A real-life Kryp. Intriguing.

Earl latched onto the handrails to stay up, causing the entire catwalk to quake. Lex lost his footing. On all fours, he scrambled for the other side. Behind him, the metal shrieked, almost overwhelming the disc-scratching noise of Earl's jitters. Then, Lex was weightless, the ground stolen out from under him. The catwalk had broken. He snatched a guardrail as he fell, slipped off it, dropped, grabbed Earl's legs.

They floated there, hanging off the broken catwalk, and Lex thought with odd calm _so this is what it feels like to die. This is what Mom felt._ Earl was blubbering "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," and the catwalk kept tilting down like a clock-hand. Lex closed his eyes, felt himself being pulled upward. Heaven was probably too much to hope for, so he opened his eyes.

One of the hostages was pulling Earl up, and Lex along with him. As soon as Earl had his arms wrapped around the guard-rail, the farmboy offered Lex a hand. Lex took it, and there was no mistaking how little effort it took him. It was like Lex weighed the same as a sheet of paper.

Then he set Lex down and ignored him, staring at Earl. Lex didn't see his eyes, but from the way Earl reacted, that was probably a good thing. Earl curled into a ball, not going anywhere, and the farmboy took several deep breaths, his shoulders unknotting, his hands relaxing into a splayed rigor mortis, only a little less tense than fists. He said something like "she's alive" before turning to Lex.

"You okay?" the kid asked.

"I'm fine, thanks to you." A Kryp? He didn't seem dangerous… anymore. "Lex Luthor."

"I know who you are," he said, too rapidly to be polite. "I'm Davis Kent," he added apologetically, offering his hand.

Lex shook it. "Nice to meet you. Especially just now."

"Yeah." Davis looked at the drop. "Crazy the things you can do when your adrenaline's pumping."

The rest, Lex could've predicted in his sleep. Davis faded into the background with his parents. Clark gave Lex a brief hug and Lionel clapped him on the shoulder with a private squeeze to remind him who he belonged to. But as he fielded questions, Lex found his eyes drifting between two extremes. Earl Jenkins being led into a paddywagon, to be run through the system for a few weeks before ending up in 33.1; and Davis Kent reunited with his family, a short blonde girl hanging off his neck. Rejoicing in being alive.

The first chance he got, Lex dialed Roger Nixon. "Hi Rog. I've got a new assignment for you. Davis Kent."

* * *

Trailing the ambulance that held Earl was easy. Davis just turned his headlights off and let the Red show him everything. When the ambulance stopped at a gas station, he made his move. He parked a mile behind and ran while the driver used the restroom.

Davis forced the lock and climbed into the cab. Earl looked up at Davis from where he was strapped down, seeing a silhouette blackened by the setting sun. "Davey, thank God! Get me out of here, they're taking me back to Luthorcorp, they're going to do tah-tah-tests on me…! Davey?"

"That's not my name anymore." He walked around Earl to the head of the gurney, where a strap held Earl's neck. He grabbed it.

It wasn't his fault. He'd given Earl every chance to change his course. But the beast inside Earl was too strong. It had to be stopped before it hurt anyone else.

"I'm sorry." He pulled on the strap, drawing it taut around Earl's throat. "It's better this way."

Earl just gurgled, looking up at Davis with muddled eyes. Like he couldn't understand what was happening to him.

Davis gave the strap one last pull. "You're free now."

Someone had left the ambulance's radio on.

Put on my blue suede shoes  
And I boarded the plane  
Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues  
In the middle of the pouring rain

Davis held it together. He'd gotten good at that. The storm of fear and recrimination raging inside him, what was it compared to the Red? And he could control _that_, couldn't he?

He got home, staggered inside, stripped off his outerwear as he went up the stairs. Fell into bed facefirst and thought about how loud he could scream if he let himself.

A thought struck him. He got up and ripped through his CDs until he found the mix Chloe had burned him. He shoved it into his radio and pressed play.

W.C. Handy -- won't you look down over me?

Yeah I got a first class ticket

But I'm as blue as a boy can be

He turned it up until he was sure no one could hear his fractured sobs under the music, as he collapsed slowly inward on himself, pulled to the ground as if Hell had its hooks in him.

Then I'm walking in Memphis  
Walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale  
Walking in Memphis  
But do I really feel the way I feel?

His phone rang. He ignored it until it reached voicemail, then he heard Chloe's voice. He answered before he could think about it.

"Chloe?"

"Yeah. It's funny, just hearing you pick up is… I feel better."

Davis scrubbed his face with his hands, pulling himself up to sit on his bed. "Yeah. Me too."

Saw the ghost of Elvis  
On Union Avenue  
Followed him up to the gates of Graceland  
Then I watched him walk right through  
Now security they did not see him  
They just hovered 'round his tomb  
But there's a pretty little thing  
Waiting for the King  
Down in the Jungle Room

"You know when I told you I was fine? Well, I was being gung-ho. I just had this really… fucked-up nightmare about us being back in that plant and I was wondering… okay, there is no way to say this without coming across like a complete wuss, so would you like to keep me company? We can watch King Kong. I'll share my popcorn, you can geek out about the spider pit… hell, _I_ can geek out about the spider pit." She paused, her voice cracking a little. "I just don't want to have nothing to think about but Arkin and Kelvin and all the others. I want something _good_."

He knew what he should've said. _I don't quite know what these things are. But someone has to stop them. And you deserve someone with clean hands, not with blood._ Instead, he said "I can't. I have to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow, farm stuff."

He couldn't have a life with her, not without trusting her with this, and she'd never understand. She would think he was a freak. A monster.

Then I'm walking in Memphis  
Walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale  
Walking in Memphis  
But do I really feel the way I feel?

"Oh, okay. Cool," Chloe said, though it obviously wasn't. "I'll just grab a stuffed animal or something. Mind if I call him Davis?"

Davis almost smiled. God. He didn't deserve her anyway. "I'd be honored."

They've got catfish on the table  
They've got gospel in the air  
And Reverend Green be glad to see you  
When you haven't got a prayer  
Boy, you've got a prayer in Memphis

He had to protect Chloe. Even from himself.

"Is that Walking in Memphis on the radio?" she asked, desperately trying to shift the subject.

"Yeah. Yeah it is."

"I love that song."

"I did too."

Now Muriel plays piano  
Every Friday at the Hollywood  
And they brought me down to see her  
And they asked me if I would --  
Do a little number  
And I sang with all my might  
She said --  
"Tell me are you a Christian, child?"  
And I said "Ma'am I am tonight."

* * *

  


* * *

Author's notes: This chapter covers 1x07 Craving and 1x08 Jitters.

This chapter my beta **vagrantdream** saved like a crashing 747. Originally it started with the hostage situation in progress and ended it with Lex calling Roger Nixon. This was back when Davis's rejection of Chloe took place back after Kelvin's killing, which is the terrible story element I was talking about. It would've been so awful if, after being through that, Davis's first thought wouldn't be "I need Chloe's help" (although I doubt he parsed it that way at a conscious level). But having time to reflect on it and commit more fully to this path he's on and let his self-loathing grow, the decision to break away from Chloe comes much more naturally. And Earl Jenkins' death makes an excellent impetus for this.

Again, so much of this from my e-mails with Vagrant, like Davis's cold-blooded murder being propelled by Chloe's injury. Adding the additional context also let me put in some hints at the storyline, so the characters who are going to be showcased later on feel like they're part of a living, breathing world instead of walk-ons who are introduced suddenly. The little bit of redemption for Whitney was another late addition, since I'm not going to leave him at just being… Flash Thompson.

In my fiction, Nikki and Paolo can be seen as extras from the plane crash onward. Shut up, you know you're geeky enough to get the reference.

I should note that the Walking in Memphis songficcery is all on me. I just liked the image of someone having a complete meltdown to this beautiful gospel song. The moral ambiguity of Davis's actions are piling up fast, aren't they? Never forget, he's killing people.

As you should realize by now, the watchword for this is making it more than just Smallville with Davis in the lead role. So although eventually the Davis plotline and the Luthor plotline had to intersect, I held off on it until now, when Davis was _already_ in deep shit. It really is almost going to be an incestuous love triangle between Clark, Davis, and Lex, with all the maneuvering and bitterness that implies, so you'll have something to look forward to that isn't TINY BLONDE PROTECT.

So no murder (probably) next time, but trust me, such shit will go down that you will be pounding the keyboard like you're a flipper baby.


	8. Chapter 8

Lex moved the photograph at the edge of his finger, lazily dancing it around his desk. 24-hour surveillance. 24 hours of Davis Kent being a farmboy without a care in the world. He knew his suspicions alone warranted 33.1's involvement. All it would take was a phone call. But he liked having something he could keep from the rest of his family. Whatever Davis was, he wasn't some freak who got a power and started killing people. He was something special. A hero, maybe.

"Whatcha got there, Lex?" Clark asked, sauntering in like he owned the place. What made it even more annoying was that he somewhat did.

"Just a pet project." Lex shuffled the photos away before Clark reached his desk. "And what brings you here today? Come to rub my head for luck?"

"Who needs luck? I have obscenely high cheekbones and a date with Lois Lane."

"The same one from last month? I'd have thought she'd reached her expiration date by now."

"She's much more special than you realize." Clark hopped up on Lex's desk. "She has a lot of… moxie."

"And now I know who to take with me if I ever time-travel to the 1940s."

"Lex, I really like this girl."

Lex didn't need to look to know that Clark's eyes had gone from sharp to puppy dog. He had fallen for that too many times to get burned again. "So I take it you won't be attending the museum exhibit?"

And now Clark's face would be scrunching. "Museum?"

"The big building with lots of old stuff that I've been talking about for the last week. You're my plus-one. But I guess your latest fling comes first."

"I told you, she's not like that."

"Wake up, Clark. They're all like that. Because you're rich. Because you have power. It's Being A Luthor 101."

"She's not another Victoria."

Lex looked up from his desk for the first time, eyes cutting into Clark, and the younger Luthor knew he'd pushed his brother too far. "Lex, I'm sorry, I just wanted you to be…" he trailed off into mumbling. "Happy for me."

Lex stood up and fixed Clark's collar. "Enjoy your date."

* * *

Davis's cell phone played the theme to that old Battleship Galaxy show, which really wasn't as funny as Chloe had thought it was, but he kept it as a ringtone anyway. He dumped a bucket of cool water over his back and answered it as his own blood slid off him. "Hello?"

"Davis Kent?"

Davis shifted the phone to his other ear and reached for his overshirt. He suddenly felt exposed. "Mr. Luthor."

"Please, call me Lex. Mr. Luthor is my father. And occasionally my brother."

The shock of being dialed by a billionaire left Davis without a filter for his stupid questions. "How'd you get my phone number?"

"I own the phone company," Lex answered matter-of-factly.

"Ah. Okay, uh, Lex, what can I do for you?" Davis asked as he strolled around his loft, away from the blood spreading on the floor.

"How do you feel about history?"

"I hear those who don't learn from it are doomed to repeat it."

"And you don't want to be doomed, do you?"

* * *

Two hours later, Davis was in Metropolis, dressed in his Sunday best, staring at the icon of Alexander the Great with Lex Luthor. "How'd you like to ride into battle against someone wearing that?"

Lex grinned. "I'd prefer to slip something into his drink before he had a chance to put it on."

"C'mon. You wouldn't want to square off with your enemy mano-e-mano and see who's better?"

"'Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win.'"

"Sun Tzu."

"Not bad for a farmboy."

"Yeah, it really comes in handy when I'm milking cows."

As much as Davis disliked the old city mouse/country mouse thing, he had to admit he was breathing rarified air. Even in the car ride over, he'd been impressed with the sheer number and sophistication of the cars they shared the road with. Even the smallest building could tower over Smallville's water tower. He wished Chloe was there to see it.

In the museum, his father's hand-me-downs looked particularly shabby. He tried to hold his arms so people wouldn't notice the elbows in his jacket wearing thin. Lex, wearing a tailored suit like a second skin, led him from exhibit to exhibit seemingly at random, though always with an eye for Alexander or similar world-conquerors. He seemed more knowledgeable than the tour guide. The most Davis could say of her was that she was a natural blonde. Probably.

"I wonder what it was like," Davis said, staring at a portrait of Alexander. "He gave orders to go to war, knowing thousands would die. How did he live with that?"

"I'm sure he had his reasons. Maybe he was touched by divine madness."

"You're saying it was his destiny?" Davis shook his head. "No. Too easy. At some point, he had to have made a choice."

"Did he? Knowing how he was raised and the world he was born into, maybe he never even got a chance to say 'this is what I want'." Lex rubbed his lips with his thumb. "Still, he literally ruled the world. Who would say no to that?"

"Hey, deviled eggs." Davis snatched one from a passing waiter. "So you think it was all the march of history, social movements, and Alexander was just in the right place at the right time?"

"I think one man can make a difference… so long as he has the right opportunity."

"So we're back to destiny."

"I'm a Luthor. I make my own destiny. How about you, Kent?"

Davis played with his tie a little. "My dad didn't want me to come here."

Lex's left eyebrow piqued. "So why did you come? After all, your father might be right about me."

Davis panicked. "He didn't say… he's not… I don't know."

"Yes you do. You want to know if your world is all there is. Your father doesn't want you to know there's more."

"Maybe I just wanted a kickass article for the school paper. 'I spent the night with Lex Luthor'."

Lex's right eyebrow joined his left. "You might want to rethink your title."

"Yeah, usually Chloe takes care of that. She's my editor."

"And do all your editors make your lips—" Lex demonstratingly flicked a finger near his mouth—"pull up at the corners?"

Davis took a deep breath. Something about hearing Lex talk about Chloe made his protective streak surge.

"Kent, don't listen to that man, he's a shameless degenerate." Clark Luthor ambled up to them with a truly epic straight face. "I should know, I taught him."

Davis glanced over to Clark, who looked suitably awe-inspiring in a white tuxedo. Chloe's cousin was tipsily hanging off his arm, overflowing from her low-cut dress with each deep breath. Davis felt a pang of hormones for her, but dismissed it as a false positive, like sunlight reflecting off the moon. The family resemblance was subtle, but there.

"Clark." Lex was too surprised to riposte. "What are you doing here?"

"Do you really think I'd miss an exhibit on my homeboy…" his eyes darted away "—Alexander the Great?"

"But you weren't invited."

"We crashed!" Lois said in a drunken whisper, which wasn't a whisper at all. "Oh, hi Davey. What're you doing here?"

"Answering to Davis."

"I did that once. It got really confusing."

Clark introduced himself, offering his hand for a shake. Davis returned the favor. Unlike the understated firmness of Lex's handshake, Clark went straight for the alpha male position. Soft hands, no calluses, never worked a day in his life… yeah right. Davis squeezed right back, deciding then and there that they weren't going to be the best of friends.

"Hey, Clark, you wanna hold hands, I'm right here," Lois said.

Clark pulled his hand out of Davis's. "You saved my brother's life. I suppose I owe you a thank you." Clark belabored putting his hands in his pockets.

"I'm sure Lex would've done the same for me."

"No. Probably not." Clark winked at Lex.

"So, the famous Clark Luthor," Davis said, voice deliberately light. He kept watching Clark's eyes, looking for the telltale flicker of imminent violence. "I thought you'd be older. I wouldn't be surprised to find you in line at the cafeteria."

Clark gave Lex another 'where did you find this guy?' look. "I was home-schooled."

"Oh. My mom thought about home-schooling me. She didn't."

Lois made another valiant attempt to break the tension. "So, this is how the infamous Lex Luthor spends his weekends."

"I like to save the virgin sacrifices for weekdays. There's less of a crowd."

Clark cocked his head. "If you'll excuse me, I have to save a bum from a runaway bus."

Lois laughed out loud. "I have never heard it called that before."

* * *

The night wore on, the string quartet changed their sheet books, Lois had more to drink, and Davis obliged Lex when the bald man slipped him martinis. His head a little cottony, Davis found himself walking with Lex through the lonely astronomy wing.

The amphitheatre was designed as a scale model of the solar system, with all the exhibits between orbits. The only light came from the miniature sun, which reflected off the planets and cast long shadows. Davis weaved between the various moon-booths. "So, Clark Luthor…"

"He's adopted." Lex undid his cufflinks and loosened his tie. "Very. In the plant, how'd you save me?"

"I don't know. Maybe you just made the right choice to lay off the fajitas."

"And maybe there's something you're not telling me." Lex twitched a smile. "Which is your right, of course. But if there _is_ something more to you, be sure to watch your step out there. Heroes don't always get the welcome they deserve."

Davis looked back at Lex from behind the sun, its light forming craggy shadows on his face. "I'm no hero."

"Say, I really hate to interrupt you two lovebirds," a thick Metro accent broke in, "but Lex, I need a word."

Lex turned to see Phelan, hiding behind his badge literally instead of the usual metaphor. It was clipped to his belt, revealed in the way he crassly leaned against the Earth model with his coat thrown back.

"Courtesy," Lex drawled. "There's a word you definitely need."

"Get rid of the kid before I smell his breath and run you in for corrupting a minor."

"He's right, Davis," Lex said. "You'd better leave Phelan and I to our business."

"You gonna be okay?" Davis asked.

"He's a cop. What could be safer?"

* * *

"So that's why Chloe and you should slap tha skin-wagons," Lois concluded. "Thanks for holding my hair, by the… way."

"Any time," Davis said. "No, I don't mean that. Let's go wash up."

They went to the washroom's sinks, where Lois successfully rinsed her mouth with water from Davis's cupped hands.

"Because you're a nice guy and Chloe should lose it to a nice guy, not like Wes Keenan, that _jerk_… me," here Lois put a hand to her chest and somehow managed to miss. "I'm into bad boys. You're not a bad boy, are you?"

"Not when I can help it."

"Thas good. Because Chloe could use a good boy. Someone to keep her grounded, ya know? Someone ta take care of her. Now Clark, he takes good care a me. He's my man of steel!"

"Oh, thank God I now know that."

Lois shook her teeth in the faucet stream. "Did I vomit on anythin' expensive?"

"No, I got these shoes very cheap."

* * *

Davis found Lex again in the museum's Native American exhibit. His eyes danced over the spears and tomahawks before he forced them to Lex, who was standing in front of what looked like a cave wall. His hands hung by his sides, an empty martini glass in one, as he looked down at a plaque.

"'Made possible by the generous donation of Lionel Luthor,'" Lex said in his slender, sarcastic voice. It lowered. "My brother found this behind a cave-in. He's a man of many talents, Clark. Everything comes so easily to him."

Davis stood off to Lex's side, also drawn to the strange language written on the excavated rock. It was almost familiar, something about the precise geometry of the lines. One particular cave drawing, a two-headed beast colored red and blue, called to him. He actually reached for it before Lex stopped him.

"They do frown on that here," Lex said. "You like it? It's Naman and Sageeth."

"Naman?" Davis asked.

"It means 'Traveler'. Naman is the great figure of Kawatche prophecy. You know the story… the Chosen One, sent down from the heavens to protect the Earth."

"Yes. Fell down in a rain of fire, so you can imagine how excited the Kawatche were about the meteor shower. As I recall, he has the strength of ten men, which he needs to hunt down the phantoms."

"Phantoms?"

"Escapees from Kawatche hell. Supposedly, they can possess people, and Naman will 'chase them out.'"

"Demons."

"If you'd prefer." Lex chuckled. "I apologize, Clark was always fascinated with this stuff. Personally, I found Sageeth more interesting."

"Who's he?"

"The red one. His name means 'destroyer'. He and Naman used to be inseparable, but the prophecy says that one day Sageeth will turn against Naman and become the bearer of darkness. What I could never figure out is if Naman is so great, why would Sageeth oppose him? Then I started wondering when the people of Earth asked Naman to protect them. With all that power, he could be corrupted." Lex looked at Davis. "You'd have to be pretty brave to stand against such a formidable enemy."

"I'm not brave."

"You never really know _who_ you are until the fire rains down. In that instant, with that choice, you know what you're made of."

"What choice would that be?"

"Whether you accept your destiny or run from it."

"And what did you choose?"

Lex smiled. "I chose to stand and fight. My destiny may not be the greatest, but I'll fight it every step of the way if I find it lacking. How about you?"

"I don't really have a destiny."

"Maybe not. But you never did answer my question."

Davis stepped away from the cave excavation. The Kawatche exhibit seemed to press in on him, every wolf figurine baying at him, every arrow pointed at him. "What question would that be?"

"Your editor. Chloe Sullivan, right? Nice girl. She seems to think that the meteors are responsible for more damage than Luthorcorp pollution, which I always appreciate. But what do you appreciate?"

"She's a good friend."

Lex circled him. "And how do you feel about your good friend?"

"I love her." Saying that felt like torture devices were being taken off him. "It's complicated."

"Does she love you?"

He didn't even have to think about it. "I hope so." Admitting that brought the rush of gloom he'd expected, but also an unpredicted, unreasoning giddiness. He rubbed at his grin with the side of his fist.

"Then trust me, it's simple. I'd be lucky if one woman out of the next hundred I meet was interested in me instead of my money. You're young, honest, and you have a full head of hair. Just make it work. She could just be your destiny. And here ends my lesson on love. Next time, ask me about a coup d'état. It's more my speed."

"You shouldn't—" Davis started, but it was already too late. His left hand was shaking. He balled it into a fist and walked off.

"I didn't mean right now," Lex called after him.

"It's a school night," Davis said, not turning back.

* * *

"'Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize,'" Davis quoted from memory. 1 Corinthians 9:24.

He whipped the rod over his shoulder, feeling its claws dig into his back. He didn't even want to cry out, the pain was that bland. It was good that he could control it, shutting down pain could buy him precious seconds when he went about his work, but it also made him feel more lost. Wasn't he at least entitled to his suffering?

"'Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.'"

He'd been weak. He'd stopped to consider a world where he wasn't… this. A world where he and Chloe could… be. It wasn't possible and he should stop letting himself be tempted. His work was so much more important—it just didn't feel as important as a smile from her, a joke, a look. But how could he protect her if he was just a man, like he wanted to be with her?

"'Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air.'"

He whipped himself again. His wounds didn't even have a chance to bleed before they closed up. He was getting stronger, faster, smarter. It was perverse. Like his body was rewarding him for each kill. He tossed the rod aside. Fifty bucks on eBay and within days it had outlived its usefulness. He thought about cutting himself, but sudden nightmare logic wondered what might get out if he opened his skin.

"'No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.'"

* * *

  


* * *

* * *

Author's notes: This chapter covers 1x09 Rogue. Here, I wanted to again let the Davis/Chloe linger and let that angst build up. Davis is cutting himself off from Chloe and now he's resorting to self-flagellation to try to feel some means of control over his life, almost punishing himself for still feeling this connection to Chloe. Not good.

I love writing the love/hate, trust/distrust relationship between Clark and Lex, and how Lex uses Davis almost as a pawn in this competition against Clark, sort of like "I don't need you, look at this other friend I have, that's how little you mean to me." And Clark is at once being both insensitive to Lex and trying to get Lex to share his happiness about Lois. So some tension there, which is going to be of enormous importance later.

The self-flagellation was part of Davis's descent that was always in my notes, so I originally put it in just to set Davis's phone conversation with Lex apart from the usual "hi how are you", then I moved it to the end of the chapter so you start out wondering what's going on with the blood and the water, then Lois gets drunk and you file it away, then suddenly you think Davis is going to do something to resolve the Chloe situation and instead you see just how far he's fallen.

And of course we have the two Sageeths, as it were, talking about what it would be like to fight someone wearing a Superman symbol instead of talking about what it would be like to wear one into battle, as Lex did with Clark in the episode.

Another thing I tried really hard to get right was the advice Lex would offer on Chloe. That went through a number of drafts, since it couldn't be too obvious and I didn't want everything in the chapter to circle around to Chloe, since it is about establishing this friendship between Davis and Lex, and the revelation of Naman and Sageeth. But in the end, I think I managed to shuffle everything around just so, where the chapter both moves the story forward and stops to offer some commentary on itself and how the characters are feeling.

Oh, and one little thing that I definitely overthought… in this chapter, Davis admits that he loves Chloe and originally he said that Chloe loves him as well. Well, I thought that was a little presumptuous of him, and how self-loathing and undeserving of love he thinks he's become. I think the revelation that he hopes Chloe loves him, that he still wants to receive that affection, is as big a deal to Davis as stating that Chloe loves him.

Next chapter? Someone's getting laid. No, I won't say who.


	9. Chapter 9

She wasn't like other women. They were cold and hard, jaded. They knew what they were giving and what they were getting, all carefully weighted and factored in. There was no giving, no feelings. It was just another kind of business deal.

Lex seemed comfortable with that. Clark wasn't. He had a tendency for 'bringing home strays', trying to make things work when everyone said they were doomed. It got him into trouble—jealous lovers, bad break-ups, paternity suits—the things that slid off Lex like melting ice, clung to Clark like tabloid remoras.

Still, with Lois perched on his lap in literally the finest lingerie money could buy, he couldn't bring himself to regret his outlook on life. It was his one great weakness, but it was also the only weakness worth having.

Lois nuzzled his neck, rubbing against him like the world's classiest lap dancer. "Admit it. This is better than another board meeting."

"My dad is going to kill me," Clark laughed, leaning forward so Lois could untuck his shirt, fingers skipping over his waist.

"Ah, I'm sure he'll let you off with a light beating." She guided his hands to her breasts, kissing his fingers before she let them touch her. "And I promise I'll kiss it better."

Lois wasn't like anyone else. Never any half-measures with her. No compromises. She arced against his touch as he curled his hands around her waist, pressing her to him like he'd never let her go. Reaching back, she dropped her bra, but surged back against him before he could catch more than a glimpse. With her lips against his, he could only imagine the sight of her flesh currently rubbing against him.

"If you don't slow down, I'm gonna lose control," Clark groaned.

Lois tongued his ear before whispering into it "That's the idea."

Clark felt a quickening heat in his groin, matched in his fingertips as if Lois were too hot to touch, and even in his eyes, making him blink away tears.

Lois pulled away long enough for him to wipe at his eyes. "I've had that. Sex so good you have to cry."

"I haven't." No matter how much Clark rubbed, tears kept coming. They singed his hands.

"Not yet." She sunk down, skin now only connecting with his in fleeting snatches, everything but her eyes cast invisible by shadows. He felt her tongue scathe, cat-like, over the lines of his abs and the contours of his ribs. His eyes burned like embers and he squeezed them shut, trying to quell it. Her tongue dipped into his belly button and lower as her fingers found his belt buckle. His eyes shot open. The bed he was looking at, still neatly made for the evening to progress to, burst into flame.

"Oh my god!" Lois cried, jumping up.

"That's never happened to me before!" Clark said.

"It has to me, but that's Tijuana for you." Lois emptied an extinguisher into the bed, putting it out. "Well, bed's a wash." She stomped her foot a few times. "Floor's still good, though."

"Actually, there's something I've been meaning to tell you…" Clark crossed his legs, hopefully underlining his seriousness. She deserved to know his secret, and of all the woman he'd known, she seemed the most trustworthy. The most worthy, period.

But then, he had almost flambéed her just now. And as long as they'd been going out, some things ran deeper. It was time for a change, but not here, not yet. It wasn't being a coward, it was just being prudent. Besides, it was shaping up to be a lovely evening.

"You look beautiful in the firelight."

Lois smiled. As it turned out, the floor was very good. Before thoughts of anything but Lois were violently ejected from his head, Clark pondered who to ask for advice on telling Lois his secret. Making her a part of the family, so to speak.

He wondered what Lex was up to.

* * *

A fist rammed into Davis's abdomen, making the contents of his stomach roil violently. He also felt a rib splinter. It was nothing new, but usually he could see who was hitting him.

After making the connection between Lex's stalker and the ghost of Smallville High, Davis had traced the invisible man to Jeff Palmer's doorstep. Now he was in Lex's office, fighting to save Lex from the stalker's overprotective, transparent, insane brother. Life was a rich tapestry.

A vase to his left stirred. Davis ducked as it launched himself at him. All this provocation with no target was driving the Red mad. If he didn't suppress it, it would rip apart Lex just for being there. He recited Bible verses to himself, trying to distance himself from the rage. "Ye, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death—"

"That's comforting," Lex grumbled. His face jerked to the side, red blooming on his cheek.

"You're going to defend him?" Palmer's disembodied voice echoed. "This son of a bitch didn't think my sister was good enough for him! He preferred to spend his time with whores and sluts!"

"I'd really appreciate it if you didn't refer to me in the past tense," Lex said.

Davis backed off, keeping his arms up to ward off attack. "Jeff, you're not going to like how this ends. Turn visible. We can work something out." He backed into Lex's desk.

"It's too late for that! He ruined everything!"

Davis's eyes darted around, searching for a clue to Palmer's location. Lex doubled over with sudden violence; another blow.

"Once you're gone, my sister can finally be at peace!"

Davis reached backward until his hand settled around a letter opener. "Jeff, your sister sucks cocks."

"_My sister is a—_"

Davis flung the letter opener. It spun end over end, stopping at the source of Palmer's voice. There it stopped in mid-air, the blade turning red with blood. Davis smelled eyeball ichor. The letter opener dropped with Palmer's invisible body.

"Only child," Davis finished under his breath.

Fake-nursing his healed wounds, he went to untie Lex.

"Nice shot," Luthor said, wide-eyed.

"I pretended I was playing strip darts with Chloe."

Freed, Lex rubbed his wrists. "Davis, I think he's dead."

Davis turned around. Blood was spreading from nowhere, outlining a motionless form spread-eagled on the floor. "Oh. Oh God. He's dead." Davis whirled back to Lex. "I didn't want him dead, I swear! I didn't mean it!"

"It's alright." Lex stood and walked to his liquor cabinet. He poured a glass of brandy, knocked it back, then poured another for Davis. "Drink up." Davis was motionless. Lex pulled him back before the spreading blood reached his shoes. "It's for your nerves, Davis, drink it."

Davis reluctantly did. "What happens now?"

"You're my friend. I'm not going to let your life be ruined because of me. Our pal here is going to stay disappeared, I have people who will make sure of that. And you are going to forget this ever happened." Lex straightened up Davis's clothes. "You saved my life. You didn't do anything wrong."

"You're right, you're right." Davis poured himself another drink. "Thank you."

Lex smiled. "You're a good friend, Davis. I have to go make some phone calls. Help yourself to whatever you like."

Davis toasted him.

It wasn't until Lex left the room that Palmer became visible. From the steady motion of his chest it was obvious he was alive. After pouring another glass, Davis walked up to him. He downed the drink and, in the rush of the burn, stomped on Palmer's throat.

Jeff's windpipe shattered, ensuring he'd never wake up. Davis went for another drink, no longer wondering what he'd become.

* * *

"He's avoiding me," Chloe said from the cold comfort of the passenger seat of Lois's Oldsmobile. Ever since Davis had gotten that truck from Lex, he hadn't ridden the bus with her anymore, fuel economy be damned.

"He's not avoiding you," Lois said. "You're overreacting because you're a teenager."

"He quit the school paper. I _am_ the school paper!"

"Yes, he's palling around with Lex Luthor when he could be writing about cows with two heads. Clearly he's developed a deep personal animosity for you."

"We don't study together anymore. He doesn't answer my phone calls. We don't even sit together. It's like he's cutting me out of his life and I don't even know _wuh_-why."

"Are you gonna cry? Because if you need to cry, I can pull this car over and fake a very convincing doctor's note to get you out of school," Lois said, bluntly compassionate.

Chloe wiped at her eyes. "I'll be fine. I just don't wanna lose him."

"Honey, you don't have him."

Chloe thumped her head against the window. "I _know_. But sometimes, it's like he's with me but then he's stolen away. Like there's something between us I can't get past. He wants to be with me, I can feel it, he just… can't."

"He's gay?"

"No way, he and I…" Chloe ran a hand through her hair. "He's not gay."

"I believe you," Lois deadpanned. "But he's definitely interested?"

"He keeps looking at me. He always gets flustered when I catch him. It's kind of cute."

"Okay, maybe he's the kind of guy who likes the woman to take the first step and this is all some passive-aggressive attempt to get into your pants. So just walk up to him and tell Davis you want him. To go on a date. It's feminist and it sets a good precedent of you telling him what to do."

"No way! My head would explode on the first syllable. I'm not… _you!_"

"You could be," Lois said with a grin. "One growth spurt and you'd have the Lane Cannons."

"I prefer people looking at my face," Chloe replied. No matter what, her cousin always seemed to be able to ferret a smile out of her.

"Okay, you really want to press delete on the drama, do what I did to Bruce Wayne. Tell him how you feel, only don't tell him."

"You lost me."

"Write him a letter! You don't have to send it, just get all your hormones on the page so you can approach him as an adult. A really small adult, but still an adult."

"Wow, Lois, that scheme is neither harebrained nor half-baked."

"I know. To tell the truth, I'm a little surprised myself."

* * *

"You got sloppy, kid," Phelan said.

And to think, Davis had been relieved.

After all, if the police knew what he was doing, surely they also knew why. Maybe God could finally stop testing him. The burden could finally pass to someone else. Of course, it was a lie. Every miracle came with a price, every genesis had an exodus. And if you weren't of the chosen people, you were only destined to burn.

Davis sat in an empty classroom, Phelan leaning against a nearby desk. He felt the Red stirring inside him, like his mother's fears had come true and he'd swallowed razor blades in a candy apple. He greeted it with a resigned detachment. _Not yet. Be patient. You know I won't fight you when the time comes._

He tried to think of Chloe, which always drove the Red back, but realized he couldn't quite remember all of her. What color were her eyes? What color did she paint her nails? What did her laugh sound like?

Phelan read Davis's distress as his evil genius act working. "That body Lex had me dump, for instance. You put a boot print on his neck that fits your shoe size exactly. Not too smart."

"Not a lot of people with feet as big as mine?" Davis mouthed off.

"Then you killed Bob Rickman. Big mistake. You angry your father was selling the farm, so you made sure Bob bought the farm?"

"Bob was a demon. He had the power to cloud men's minds. He used it to cheat countless people as well as commit murder."

"A demon."

"Mm-hm. Just like Jeff Palmer. You're a detective. When you buried him, didn't you detect he was translucent?"

"I just assumed he was one of your pal Luthor's experiments. Wouldn't be the first." Phelan strolled up to the chalkboard. "But as long as you're doing the Lord's work, maybe you can exorcise one of my demons."

"Try Al-Anon."

"Funny. I like that in my murderers. Ah." He picked up an apple from the teacher's desk. "We're on the same side, Dave-o. Fighting the forces of darkness. I just need your help. There's this IA rat who doesn't understand that the ends justify the means. You don't have to kill him—I could do that myself. Just scare him a little. Cut off a few fingers. Quote some Bible verses."

"I'm not the villain in a fucking Ashley Judd movie," Davis growled.

Phelan slapped his cuffs down on Davis's desk. "_You wanna watch your mom's face while a jury finds you guilty?_"

Principal Kwan knocked on the door. "Detective Phelan, are you done?"

Davis looked up from the cuffs to Phelan's face. "No, I don't."

"Good. Keep that in mind." Phelan walked to the door. "Don't do drugs."

* * *

Clark watched Lex line up his shot, the pool cue drifting between his manicured fingers. Lex took a deep breath and stopped, his cue absolutely still.

"Rob any banks lately?" Clark teased.

Lex scratched. Reached for a brandy sniffer. "Every time something goes wrong in Smallville they blame me. When forty cakes went missing from that bakery, they…" His phone rang. Lex answered it. As soon as he heard who it was, he gave Clark a lopsided smile. "Hello Davis." He walked out onto the balcony. "The cable company finally set the plasma TV up. Would you like to come over and see if there's anything good on?"

Davis sounded like he'd been out in the cold so long the warmth had frozen out of his voice. "Phelan. You know him."

"Is he troubling you? I can handle him."

"Don't bother. Just tell me about him."

"He's one of any number of disposable napkins my father keeps around to clean up messes. He's a thug, but he has his uses."

"Not a good guy, is he?"

"No. He's not." Lex would've explained how sometimes a bad guy could be the right man for a job, but he suspected Davis already knew.

"Good."

The line went dead.

* * *

"You fail, Jedi." Davis brandished his lightsaber at Chloe. "You'll be brought to justice like the rest of Lord Vader's enemies."

"Cut!" Chloe cried, and Pete lowered the camera. The video shook accordingly. "Why are you holding your lightsaber backwards?"

"I don't know, it just feels right."

"And justice? Sith hate justice!"

"They formed the Empire. From their perspective, they're keeping the peace by fighting the Rebels. And the Jedi were jerks, let's face it. They kidnapped kids and indoctrinated them into their celibacy cult. And why is Yoda so hung up on little kids anyway?"

"Save it for the Jedi, Davey."

"_Davis_. It's not that hard."

Chloe paused the video. Davis had been so adamant about abandoning his childhood nickname once he'd entered high school. He'd pinched his lips up tight whenever someone called him Davey, before explaining the name on his birth certificate was Davis as if calling him anything else was a dire insult. He'd lightened up after Chloe had hacked the school's computer to say he was David Kent. Of course, Chloe had regretted it once she figured out why.

After the Kents had told him he was adopted, it turned out his name was one of the few things he'd inherited from them.

Chloe took another look at Davis's chiseled face, sighed, and dug out her notebook. Later… maybe… much later… she'd do it on some of that Sherlock Holmes paper, in ink, maybe even in cursive. For now, she'd settle for just getting it down with graphite.

"Hi, Davis," she said, pencil automatically scrawling behind her words. "It's Chloe… obviously. I don't really know how to begin here, so I guess I'll just start from the start… I'm crazy about you."

* * *

Davis stood on the sidewalk outside the church, wondering if this was what a vampire felt like. He didn't dare take a step toward it for fear he'd be repelled, sniffed out. It was even overcast, as if the light wouldn't touch him. God knew what he'd been thinking.

A car pulled up behind him. Davis could smell Phelan's splashed-on cologne from miles away, but he waited until the horn honked before he turned. It was a nice car, convertible. Corruption paid well.

"Phelan. Just the man I was looking for."

"You thought about my offer, kid?" Phelan lowered his Ray-Bans with slender fingers. "A few hours' work, and no more summer jobs pushing popcorn. Once you're under my wing, you're set for life."

"You're right, Phelan. This may be a golden opportunity for me." Davis got into the car.

* * *

"I don't know when it started, really. Maybe it was all set in motion before either of us was even born. But there's something inside me, this force, this… need. I need to look at you. I need to take care of you. I need to talk to you and be with you. God, I feel so stupid saying this, but you're my best friend and I'm so… glad for that. I just wish you could be more. Then things would be perfect."

* * *

Davis felt the roar of the engine, tactile under where the soles of his shoes met the floor, and felt the wind snatch at his hair. He savored it. Phelan was saying something about the injustice of the universe, how he did more good than harm, while he only took what he was owed. Davis wasn't listening. He felt like he had heard it all before, all cover songs on the same old music.

The bridge was up ahead.

* * *

"It's like there's this thing growing inside me, this presence that's taking over my life. And… it's you."

* * *

Davis reached over and put his foot down over Phelan's on the gas. Now he noticed what Phelan was saying, the rapidly dawning realization, the panic. He'd still heard it all before. No one ever believed they were about to die.

Phelan beat at him, but at this point, Davis couldn't even feel it. He took hold of the steering wheel and pulled it to the side. The car hit the railing and ripped clean through.

* * *

"I love you, Davis."

* * *

The car hit the water. Davis savored it. The water rose up and swallowed him down and he stayed under, letting it pull him down further and further. He kept one hand on Phelan's seatbelt, stopping him from disengaging it, but aside from that he just watched the sky through the churning water. It took a long time for the waves from a car crash to settle. He didn't pay any attention to Phelan's death.

* * *

"And I know even as I'm saying this, even as I write it down… that I can't tell you. I don't know what you're dealing with, but I don't think you can handle this right now. So I'll wait. I'll be your best friend. I'll be whatever you need me to be. Because one day you'll be what I need. I just have to be patient."

* * *

Eventually Davis decided to come to the surface. It wasn't any pressing need for air, or the fact that air bubbles had stopped trickling out of Phelan's throat. He just didn't want to be down there anymore. He let go of Phelan's seatbelt, which had crushed in his hand, and unbuckled his own. Then he swam a ways downstream, letting the current carrying him for the most part, before finally coming to the surface.

Then he screamed and screamed and screamed.

* * *

* * *

Author's notes: This chapter covers 1x10 Shimmer and 1x11 Hug.

Man, I put in all those jokes and this is still the darkest chapter yet, wasn't it? Fuck. The way I write is to gather up notes throughout the writing process, then incorporate them into the narrative as I write so it's not 'just' a scene of Davis calling Lex, it's Davis calling Lex as he's playing a pool game with Clark. I think it gives the characters more life. Did you catch the foreshadowing in that scene?

Even with some of the more overt in-jokes in this chapter, like Davis pretending to be a Sith Lord and Lex being accused of stealing forty cakes (how terrible), this is still the chapter where Davis hits rock bottom. He has this justification of how he's only killing demons, not people, a self-delusion which has been slowly growing within him until he spouts it to Phelan as fact… a fact which might not even matter to him anymore.

Then he kills a human. Even after hearing from Lex that Phelan is scum, that breaks Davis, rips the ground right out from underneath him. Davis is going to be in a very dark place next chapter. Just so you know.

Not that he's much better before then. He's almost totally accepted being a killer, as shown in his cold-blooded execution of Palmer. Despite it all, that was a fun scene to write, having Davis actually think his way past Palmer and generally being a very clever serial killer. Plus, more of the Triangle of Luthory Doom. Always fun.

One of the things I enjoyed doing with this story in fanfic form, as an AU, was to appropriate bits of canon and mesh them into a new narrative. Obviously, there's Lois and Davis here in season one, but there are also some extremely specific rip-offs homages, like the variant of the Fever Letter here. Believe me, I'm not waiting seven years to bring that up again.

I think one of Chloe's flaws is that she can be kind of a martyr, kind of passive-aggressive (for instance, how she takes her time deleting pictures of her and Clark together, then restoring them out of her recycle bin. Psychologically healthy!). It's the flipside of how self-sacrificing she can be that she has this tendency to think it's better to deny what she wants in favor of other peoples' wants, when a little selfishness would make her happier and probably improve her situation generally (see Olsen, Jimmy Henry). But fortunately, I had a much better idea of what to do with the Fever Letter and thus I put it in here to come up again for a very specific purpose, very, very soon.

One of the very last scenes I wrote was the Clark/Lois sex scene (yeah, good luck backbuttoning out of this fic now, Clois haters! Nine parts in, twelve to go! Hey, don't worry, the next sex scene will involve Davis. Ooh, could I be more vague?). That's there to show some of the widening gulf between Clark and Lionel (he skipped out on a Luthorcorp meeting for sex! Good hustle, Kent. And good _hustling_, Lane!), and conversely the growing relationship between Clark and Lois. Plus, eyejaculation. STILL LOLARIOUS. I love shoring up the Luthor B-plot, since it pays off in such a big way as the story continues.

Next week: Davis's life changes forever, but for better or for worse? Oh, and did I hear someone ask for some Chlavis? The wait is over, mofos.


	10. Chapter 10

It was another leftover night, the kind Martha didn't like to admit existed. The Kents reheated whatever they could find and ate in front of the TV. Davis just ate baked beans cold from the Tupperware container. They said drowning was a peaceful way to go, and Phelan had died the same as any demon. But he hadn't been. He'd been a man, flawed and fallible, but Davis had judged him, found him wanting. _Vengeance is mine, thus saith the Lord… but I helped._

**Cop killer**. The words slashed into Davis's thoughts, bounced around his skull like a sniper's bullet. He was past the point of no return, on the dark side of the moon. No one could hear him now. **Judge not, lest ye be judged.** That was in the Bible too.

It was all over the news. The reporter said it was probably an accident, but Davis could read between the lines. The sheriff would find the busted seatbelt. They would suspect foul play. His fingerprints were on the car, but the river must've wiped them off. But what if someone had seen him get in the car? It'd been the middle of the day. Just one person looking out their window and they'd know. Chloe would know. And she'd look at him like a monster.

"A dead cop in Smallville," Martha exclaimed.

"Anyone remember when this was a nice, quiet town?" Jonathan asked. "Before the Luthors moved in?"

Davis said nothing.

* * *

History class was another boring sermon on the American Revolution. Davis doubted it'd been as noble as the teacher made it out to be. Nothing was. He spent the class practicing not looking at Chloe.

The bell rang and he was the first out of his seat, not in any hurry, just with long strides that carried him toward the door and away from Chloe. She caught up to him. "Hey, you heard about the cop killing? Crazy, huh?"

"Crazy," he confirmed. "I gotta go. Big project due."

"What's it on? Maybe I can help."

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Then maybe we can get together sometime, grab a burger. Milkshakes on me."

Davis shouldered past a slow student. "Really busy."

Chloe grabbed his backpack, jerking him to a grudging stop. "Are you seeing someone?"

"What would that have to do with anything?"

"I asked first."

"No, alright?" He hoisted his backpack, which she let go of. "I just… don't have time."

"For me?"

"For anything. That includes you." He disappeared into the crowd, washed away as they slipped into class.

Chloe stood in the middle of the hallway, not knowing what to do. She held it together. At least, she didn't not hold it together.

Lois put an arm around her shoulders and led her cousin into the guidance councilor's office, where she worked for some walking-around money.

"I'm not crying," Chloe insisted, sniffling. "I have fucking allergies."

"Runs in the family," Lois assured her. She handed Chloe a tissue. "He is so not good enough for you."

Chloe didn't argue the point. She wiped her nose and threw the tissue away, then began massaging her temples. "I wrote him that letter."

"Did it help?"

"Sure!" Chloe burst into laughter. "Now instead of thinking I'm in love with him, I know it."

Lois frowned. "Can I see it?"

Chloe morosely dug through her backpack, bringing out a much-folded piece of notebook paper. Lois read it.

"It's very… honest."

"I'm pathetic."

"You're not pathetic. You're the least pathetic person I know. You're just all messed up on hormones at the moment. Date him, don't date him, in ten years you'll be laughing your ass off each time he cameos in your diary."

"What if he's on drugs, though? Or in a gang?"

"Chloe, it's Smallville. What's he gonna do, spray-paint the cows before he tips them?"

"I should talk to Mrs. Kent. She must know what's going on."

"For now, get to class. I get bonuses based on attendance records."

Chloe nodded and zipped up her backpack. "He's hurting, Lois. I can tell."

"And you're not?"

Chloe set down her backpack. "I think he might've had something to do with Harry Volk's death." She laid it all out as Lois sat down on the desk, arms slowly crossing, then tightening around her chest.

"Have you gone to the police?" Lois asked.

"No! I can't. It'd ruin his life. Volk was a murderer, and if Davis killed him while trying to protect some innocent man from that monster… who gives a shit?"

"Point taken," Lois said, standing up, pacing in the close confines of the office.

Someone knocked on the door. "Miss Lane?"

"Beat it!"

Eric Summers poked his head in anyway. "Miss Lane, I really need to go home, I can't go on a field trip with my dad…"

"I said beat it. What, don't you need to know English to go to high school? Go see the school nurse."

"She says I should tough it out."

"Well, she's the one with a medical license! _Shoo!_"

Eric closed the door. Lois locked it. In the interval, Chloe had started crying again. Lois gave her some more tissues.

"I can't imagine what it must be doing to him, suffering through this all alone. He's such a good guy, I can't imagine what taking a life would do to him… no, no I can. It would destroy him, Lois."

"Hold on, you don't even know that he's done anything. What if he just got there and he saw who did it? What if he got there and he saw the body? I mean, c'mon, it's Davis Bloom. He was literally a choir boy, remember? The guy wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Then what's _wrong_ with him?"

"He's a teenage boy! You think he needs an excuse to be moody? You've just spent too much time with that wall of whack, it's got you seeing axe murderers and conspiracy theories everywhere. Just relax… no, you should lie down. Lie down and I'll get you a Coke. Wait, you like Sprite, don't you?"

"I'm fine." Chloe glanced at the wall-clock. "I need to get to class, I'm already late…"

"You're sure you're going to be okay?

"It's not me you should be worried about," Chloe said, all out of tears, and then she was out the door.

Lois picked up Chloe's letter from her desk. She really hated teen angst.

* * *

Davis closed his locker to find Lois was leaning against the wall, previously concealed by the door. He wondered if she was a drama queen or if his life just seemed more melodramatic these days. "Can I help you, Miss Lane?"

Lois shoved a piece of paper against his chest. "Read it."

"I'm not really in a literary mood."

"It's from Chloe," Lois said, her voice dripping with scorn.

Davis took the letter and started to read.

"I get what she sees in you, even if you seem to be doing your best to hide it. I guess being a good guy isn't as cool as it used to be. But what's the appeal in hurting Chloe? She is _awesome_ and I know you're smart enough to see it."

Davis closed up the letter with numb hands, slumping against the lockers as if wrung dry. "I'd never hurt her. I'm trying to protect her!"

"From what?"

He handed the letter back to her. "Something dark."

* * *

Geology fieldtrip. Davis sat alone in back of the bus, feeling nausea come and go. It'd been a while since he'd had a kill and that left a stirring that traveled through his body, like a hunger or a thirst. Like a lust.

Chloe sat near the front. She didn't look back at him. He watched her golden hair ripple with each bump in the road. It took his mind off his appetites.

The bus came to a stop, ending the assault of rowdiness on his ears. Everything grated on his nerves like rusty nails. Except Chloe. He followed her off the bus, not daring to get too close.

It was still overcast, the storm that'd been gathering the last few days now was black as it was going to get. Davis could feel the charge of ozone in the air, the moisture begging to become rain. He saw Eric Summers awkwardly flirting with Holly and Holly's boyfriend taking offense, testosterone as thick as humidity. He walked through it and wasn't touched. He was cut off from their world. No direction home.

Davis sought out the minerals on his checklist and tried not to think of blood.

"We should talk," Chloe said, sitting down on the boulder next to him.

"Probably. I seem to be getting out of practice."

"Lois told me she gave you my letter. And after I finished ax-murdering her—"

"Don't joke about that!" Davis said, quietly, but so vehement that Chloe actually flinched back as if struck. "It's not funny."

"Did you find out something about your birth parents?" Chloe ventured. "Something bad?"

Davis laughed harshly, again with the dark forcefulness that made Chloe feel as bruised and raw as he must be. "I guess you could say that."

"So what is—"

Davis cut her off. "I know you're waiting for me. You think someday I'm going to look at you and realize how amazing you are. And I do." He reached for her, but his arm couldn't extend all the way. It hovered between them, the fingers compulsively closing in agitation. "How could I not? I'd have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to see how special you are. But it can never happen. I am not worth waiting for."

"Davis, whatever's going on with you…" she reached for his outstretched hand. "Let me help."

He jerked his arm back. "You can't help me, Chlo. Nobody can. Goodbye." He forced himself not to look back as he walked away.

* * *

Davis took his seat, once more at the back of the bus. He braced his head against the window. His reflection stared at him. He could drive his head through the glass and it wouldn't leave a scratch.

Whitney Fordman sat down beside him. "Hey, Davis, can we talk?"

"You can. I'll listen. Maybe."

"I deserve that. I deserve a lot that hasn't caught up with me just yet, so I've been kinda doing the rounds, catching up with everyone I've been a douchebag to."

"When'd you start, last August?"

"Last week, actually. When my dad went to the hospital."

Davis almost asked if he was okay, but he reminded himself he didn't care at the last minute.

"He's been having heart troubles for a while. That's what I was angry about, not you and Lana and the shoes. You didn't deserve that, and I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," Davis answered with a little hesitation.

"Thanks. You know, you're the first person who's really meant that? I can tell. How weird, huh? You're the golden boy. What would you know about needing forgiveness?" Whitney looked down. "I never really believed that church stuff, you know. No offense, but it seemed like a load. But, if my dad doesn't pull through… I'd kinda like to know what happens to him. If you've got time to talk."

"Has anyone seen Eric?" Mr. Summers bellowed from the front of the bus. Davis had had him all semester and he had never called Eric 'my son' or 'my boy' or anything like that. Davis had used to think that was weird.

"I'll find him," Davis said. Anything to keep Chloe from taking her place as another regret, or from having to give Whitney an answer he didn't know anymore.

* * *

He found Eric on top of the dam. Balanced on the railing like a scarecrow on a post, arms outstretched to meet the flaring storm clouds, the Von Bondies' 'Not That Social' bleeding out of his earphones. Davis looked over the railing. Long way to fall. He climbed up beside Eric, waited to be noticed, just like him. It was peaceful on top of the world.

"What are you doing up here?" Davis asked.

"Same thing you are."

"I came here to find you."

Eric just laughed. "This is living!"

Davis looked down. "It could become dying real quick."

"Ya know, I got a skateboard for Christmas last year. My dad made me give it back. Said it was _too dangerous_."

"Eric, you. Are going. To die."

"You're right. You're right." Eric shook his head, suddenly contending with vertigo. "Help me down?"

"Sure thing." Davis heedlessly hopped back onto solid ground. "You can't let the bastards grind you down. I think that's the crux of it. You just have to keep catching the curveballs."

Then the finger of God touched him.

The entire world was light and a transcendent pain, the kind that blissfully distracted you from some other, more continuous hurt. He felt a sudden absence, like he couldn't catch his breath, then on an entirely different level felt the concrete scraping his arms and back. He'd been laid out. His hip hurt where he'd landed on his rosary, the beads biting into his flesh.

Still mentally feeling out his sense of _missing_, he looked around. One of his shoes was lying on its side, the tongue smoldering. The prayer beads rolled around the ground like little dice. His limbs twinged when he sat up.

The railing they'd been standing on was red-hot. A pale hand clung to it, sizzling like bacon on a frying pan. The pathetic image swam out of focus. When Davis's vision cleared, the hand was gone. _I couldn't save him._ Of course not.

Davis got up, sorting it out. The sound of thunder helped. They'd been struck by lightning. Davis had landed on the dam. Eric had fallen off it. _I really don't have anything to offer but death._ He put his shoe back on and made his way down the dam. No particular hurry. He'd killed enough people to know what the human body could survive.

But as he descended, he heard a voice shouting for help. Davis broke into a run. He came to the dam's run-off to find Eric washed up on shore, at the head of a cloud of blood. Bone jutted out of his leg, a compound fracture. Davis thought of putting him out of his misery, but just as quickly shouted the idea down. To his surprise, it didn't linger, disappearing into the ether as if in shame.

"Don't try to move," Davis said, and the words, the compassion, came easily. "I'll get help."

"Davis, wait… something's wrong… why doesn't it hurt…? Am I dying?" But while Eric was spilling out his hyperventilating inner monologue, his fracture was being sucked back inside his leg, the skin covering it up like lips smacking.

"You're not dying," Davis said, breathless. "I think…" He took out the boot knife he'd been carrying for what seemed like an eternity, flicked the knife out, ran it along his arm for two inches. The cut didn't heal. The blood flowed freely. "I'm free."

* * *

He helped Eric walk back to the bus, although Eric didn't need the help. Davis was practically dragging him along anyway. "We have to keep this secret. Just between us, okay? We'll talk later, but for now…" Davis was almost too overwhelmed to speak. He realized he'd broken into a wide grin. He felt the line of his jaw, just to make sure.

"Our little secret," Eric agreed. "You don't tell my dad, I won't tell… anyone."

"Good deal, good deal. We'll tell them you fell in the river, your pants snagged on a rock. Got that?" Eric nodded. "Repeat it."

"I fell in the river and my pants got cut on a rock," Eric repeated proudly, flush with the excitement of their shared secret. Davis suspected it was the first time he'd been in someone's confidence.

"Good man."

They got back on the bus. Davis did most of the talking, while Eric just playacted contrite embarrassment. He was pretty good at it. Mr. Summers accepted their explanation with a blistering "We'll talk later" directed at his son. Davis collapsed into his seat, head back, eyes closed, not realizing he'd taken his customary seat by Chloe. He concentrated on the slowing trickle from the cut on his arm. The dull, windy ache was perfect.

"You look pleased with yourself," Chloe said acidly twenty minutes into the trip, when it was obvious he wasn't going to move.

Davis opened his eyes. The blood on his arm was a dry brown that cracked with every flex. He chuckled softly to himself. And just that morning, he'd been burning bridges with Chloe. It seemed like some half-forgotten nightmare. "Chloe, I…" he stopped.

Words were too thick, too great a reminder. He blinked and simply wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. He'd never be able to say what a relief it was when she completed the embrace, arms pulling him near to her, chin settling on his shoulder, hands patting his back. The nightmare was over. He was home.

* * *

Eric molded his hands into fists. They'd always felt impotent before, his fingers fitting together loosely, his palms feeling nothing but clammy. But now his fists felt like _weapons_. Lightning had struck him and he'd survived. He felt stronger, _dangerous_, like everyone had better keep their distance. All his life people had been putting him down, telling him who to be, what to think.

Well, no one was ever telling him what to do again.

* * *

* * *

Author's notes: This chapter covers 1x12 Leech.

What, you thought Davis could just go around killing meteor freaks and angsting about it forever? I know you sick freaks lap up his man-pain like delicious maple syrup, but it'd get a little old (said halfway through a 21-part story). So now this happens and believe me, the repercussions are going to go down a while. But let's talk about the chapter you just read.

This is a Davis who's completely broken, completely resigned himself to his face, he feels he's lost Chloe, he's lost his faith. It's more than not being in a relationship with Chloe, now he won't even let himself be with her. Then his powers are taken away and he realizes that could only mean God wants him to SEX UP TINY BLONDE. Speaking of which, that's why in my final draft I put the Clois sex scene where it was last chapter. That kinda jokiness just wouldn't fit in this chapter.

The character of Eric Summers is one of those plot threads I wanted to develop further than Smallville did. If you go back and reread the previous parts, you'll find references to him scattered all over. And in that vein, I added the little snippet of Whitney on the bus, which along with the bit of him helping out in the Earl Jenkins chapter, hopefully makes him a more well-rounded character than just 'jocko'.

As for the "Fever" Letter and Lois deciding to give it to Davis… what can I say, yeah, I'm proud of that one. See, this is why you don't get to be in the fic, Pete. Would _you_ have thought of that? It's the perfect, in-character way to move the story forward instead of just going in circles, which is the Smallville tradition. Tight-less, nonflying circles. So now all the Chlavis cards are on the table _and_ Davis is Doom-free. You wouldn't… happen to want to know where that goes, would you?

Alright, we're heading out of endearingly cocky and into wannabe BNF, so what else? The last addition I made to this fic was the little scene between Chloe and Lois where they discuss the possibility of Davis murdering Harry Volk. When you plot a long series like this, there's a chance of forgetting your shit between Point A and Point G. So, rereading this and seeing that there wasn't a follow-up to Chloe's sharp cookieness in deducing Davis's involvement in Volk's death, I put in that scene where Lois kinda talks her out of it. And she has a point. I imagine stumbling across someone's murder would fuck you up pretty good, although not as much as having the ultimate killing machine using your mental real estate as a timeshare. But hopefully that partially explains why Chloe is being so patient with Davis. Plus, she's in LUUUURVE.

Next time, the hits just keep on coming and the last shreds of the status quo circle the drain. Lex! Clark! Meteor freaks! And a special guest villain! Plus, SEX UP TINY BLONDE? Shit couldn't get anymore bananas if it were made out of potassium!


	11. Chapter 11

Chloe gave Davis one last pat to the small of the back before gently pushing him off her. He was fidgeting like mad, his lips twitching toward a disbelieving smile, looking like he was trying to keep from bursting into song. He kept his hands on his knees, fingers dancing against his jeans. Chloe had only seen him get this excited a few times. Never about her, of course.

"What's going on? _Seriously_, what's going on? You owe me an explanation. First you say you can't even be my friend, now you want to take me to the prom? Your mood swings are enough to give a girl whiplash. What the hell's changed?"

"Everything." Davis babbled like a little kid with a sugar rush. "I know you deserve the truth, and I know I'm sending some major mixed messages here, but that's my fault. I've been… distracted lately. I'd love to tell you about it, I really would, I want to, it's just that I _can't_ talk about it right now. I honestly can't."

"Why not?" Chloe demanded.

Davis coughed, forced himself to slow down. Some secret sadness tugged at his expression, pinching his lips together. He scrubbed it from his face. "It's complicated. But I swear to you, I'll tell you everything, and soon. But right now… not right now… it's over, it's done with, that's all that matters. You're the best friend anyone could ever ask for."

Outside, it had finally begun to rain, casting the cloudy day fully into a hazy twilight. Headlights scythed through it, passing the bus to flash on its passengers. Davis was a point of Zen calm, nirvana, and despite it all, Chloe was happy to see her friend at peace.

The bus rumbled to a stop and the students made a run back into the school. Chloe hugged her messenger bag under her like a baby in a war zone. When she looked back, she saw Davis getting off the bus in measured steps. The rain plastered his hair to his forehead and trickled down his face and he just stood there, letting it wash over him. Euphoric.

* * *

Clark came into Lex's office quite unlike himself. He wore jeans and a red jacket over a blue T-shirt for one thing, pretty miserable even by lounging standards. He'd been dressing down for Lois too much. He was anxious as well. Clark paced a few times over to and away from Lex's desk, to his older brother's labored amusement, before finally slumping down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. The message his body language sent was horrid; he was virtually prostrating himself before Lex by Luthor standards. But Clark sat there with his eyes closed, calm finally settling into his body.

"Lex, you're my brother and I love you."

"What's this about?" Lex asked, hands folded like he was greeting a slacking employee.

Clark grinned a little at his brother's cynicism. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you, something I should've shared with you a long time ago. And, I'm going to do it. I'm going to tell you. You deserve to know and you're going to know."

"So tell me," Lex said, closing his laptop and he settling back into his chair. This promised to be interesting.

Clark opened his mouth, thought better of it, looked off to the side. "Better if I show you." He abandoned the chair for the sword rack by the window, picking up one of Lex's katanas and unsheathing it. Lex buttoned down tightly on his protests, just crossing his arms like he had thought of something suitably nasty to do to Clark if his time was being wasted.

Clark held up the katana, then reversed it so it pointed at himself. Lex's eyes opened wide as he realized Clark's intentions. He sprung out of his chair, mouth open to shout—a noise that never came, as Clark drove the sword into his chest with a crash of metal. Shards of the blade peppered the floor at his feet as Clark withdrew the hilt.

Lex worked his mouth closed, his eyes still unable to keep from darting between Clark, the hilt, the broken sword. "Clark… that was an antique…" he managed.

Clark set it down. "We have a lot to talk about."

* * *

Popcorn popped on the stovetop. It was Tuesday. Usually, Chloe would be watching Buffy. Usually, she'd be watching it with Davis. But she wasn't really in the mood for moral ambiguity and existential angst that evening, so she'd let Lois talk her into watching Ugly Betty. Apparently, Lois lived on Ugly Betty. Chloe didn't care, so long as it didn't require a lot of thought or pessimism. She'd just finished repeating Davis's behavior to Lois, who sat with her thumb on the mute button like Chloe had taken up beatboxing in the middle of a family reunion.

"Weird, right? Maybe he was on drugs. And now he's gone to a Scientology center and gotten his Thetans zapped so he thinks he's cured, but really he's just counting down to a relapse." Chloe hurriedly took the popcorn off the stove. She hated when people let her rattle on like that. Davis probably would've stopped her with a little defusing quip.

Lois spoke: "So we're entertaining the possibility he's joined a cult now?"

"Why, what do you think happened?"

"Obviously, he uncovered the truth about his murdered birth parents, went on a quest to avenge their deaths, and now that it's over he can settle down with you."

Chloe sat down beside her, popcorn salted and in a bowl. "Anyone ever tell you that you have a writer's gift for imagination, Lois?"

"All the time." Lois shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "I know how these things work. He probably cheated on you with a skanky ninja chick, that's why he looks so guilty all the time."

Chloe found herself lost in examination of a popcorn kernel. "Davis didn't hook up with a ninja, okay?"

"Okay. Putting the mystery that is Davis Kent in the cold case file for the moment, are you going to give him a second chance?"

"I probably shouldn't, I know… I mean, he pulls this shit literally in the same hour, I can't live with that drama in my life… but Davis, the old Davis I mean… he wouldn't say it was over unless he meant it. What's really weird is how… okay I am with him not in my life. We used to be inseparable, we even used to do this together, but now we're on different continents and it's okay. I'm really okay with that. Maybe I'm not really in love with him."

Lois patted Chloe in a big-sisterly way. "Love takes time, Chloe. It's not sea monkeys. He used to carry your books for you. You danced with him at Earl Jenkins' wedding."

"He stepped on my toes," Chloe said, a little smile sneaking onto her face.

"So the question you have to ask yourself is… is he worth it?"

"It's not like I have a lot of options."

"Well, there's a ringing endorsement."

"Is the show on yet?"

Lois smiled and un-muted the TV.

The doorbell rang.

"Speak of the devil," Lois groused, muting the TV.

"I'll get it!" Chloe shoved the popcorn bowl into Lois's arms and hopped the back of the couch, brushing her hands off on her jeans and taking out her retainers before answering it. "Justin Gaines? What are you doing out of the hospital?"

Justin smiled at her, offering a bouquet of flowers with hands still wrapped in thick bandages. "Well, it's not an invitation to the slumber party, but I'll take what I can get."

"Of course I'm happy to see you!" Chloe gave him a hug. "I just thought you were still recovering from the crash."

"I kinda am… not so tight?"

"Sorry." Chloe backed up. Took the flowers. "They're lovely."

"They didn't have any that were also smart and talented, but I think those fit you well enough already." Justin's cheery smile never wavered. "I got your e-mail. I thought you might like a friend. And if you also need someone to have comfort sex with, that's good too."

Chloe smelled the flowers. "Rain check?"

"Sure. Just give it time. I'll grow on you like a wart."

Lois stared forlornly at the TV. "I am never going to get to watch this."

* * *

The Summers household was about as ritzy as a place in Smallville could get. Manicured lawn, white picket fence, Porsche in the driveway. Davis had heard Mr. Summers had been a professor at Metropolis University, until his health had forced him to take a 'low-stress' position teaching public school. Davis didn't think 'low-stress' was in Mr. Summers' vocabulary.

He knocked on the door. Mrs. Summers answered. She wore a housedress and pearls and her face was a battleground, with Botox the latest weapon deployed against the hated enemy, time. "Hello, are you here about the car?"

"No, I'm here to talk to Eric."

"Oh." Ctrl-Alt-Delete, reboot. "Eric is grounded. He was a very bad boy on his class field trip."

"I'm here to help him on a class project."

"What class?"

"For God's sake, let the boy in, Vivian!" Mr. Summers shouted from inside. "We all know Eric could use the help!"

Vivian stepped aside. Davis, equally abashed, walked in. The house was clean enough to be preserved as a museum exhibit at any moment, one of those places where you got the feeling they vacuumed as soon as you left.

"He's upstairs," Vivian said.

Davis nodded gratefully and went up. The door to Eric's room had the accoutrements of a young boy who'd never taken them down. Police tape, stop signs, 'keep out.' The artificial yellow was the one real color in the muted house. Taking the hint, Davis knocked on the door.

"It's open," Eric said, disgruntled.

Davis walked in. Eric was sitting on a beanbag chair, controller in his hands, playing Final Fantasy. "Oh, hey Davis." He held up his controller. "Only allowed to play Teen games."

Davis closed the door behind him. "Eric, we need to talk."

Eric paused the game. "The powers, right?"

"You've kept them secret, right?"

"My dad doesn't have me strapped to a lab table, does he?"

"Good. You have to keep control of them; otherwise they'll be in control of you."

"I can handle it. Grew up in this house, didn't I?"

"There's something else." Davis sat cross-legged on the floor. "There's a reason you have these powers."

"Like I'm not entitled to them after growing up with der Fuhrer for a dad?"

Davis looked at him uncomfortably. "No, you're not. Haven't you ever read Spider-Man? With great power comes great responsibility."

"And what's your great responsibility?"

Davis got up and pulled Eric to the window. "There are thousands of people out there. Some of them are corrupted. They have powers like us, like you, only they use them for evil. I think… they're demons."

"So what do I do?"

"You stop them. I've slain about a dozen. Now it's your turn."

Eric shook his head. In a few short sentences, Davis had stripped him of his newfound bravado. He wouldn't forget that. "I can't do it. I can't kill anyone!"

"I thought like that too. I learned." Davis patted Eric's shoulder, very gently. "They're not people, they're demons. You just have to keep that in mind."

Eric looked at him, slowly, eyes alight. "How many people have you killed?"

The number sprang to Davis's mind, but more than that he felt _shame_, suffocating him. He finally said. "Too many."

Eric laughed, like it was a joke, but stopped when he realized Davis didn't think it was funny.

"I'll do my best." Eric stared out the window, wondering what those white picket fences were hiding. "Davis, will you help me?"

"Of course." Responsibility passed. He thought of Chloe, eating popcorn, watching Buffy. "If the Apocalypse comes, beep me."

* * *

Davis didn't quite understand the appeal of pool. Lex liked it, but Lex could have any game, any vice. Why pool? Was it just the simplicity of it or did Lex like feeling like a common man?

Davis looked at Lex, with his sleeves rolled up and his shirt untucked, and reminded himself there was nothing wrong with being a common man.

"So, have you slept with Chloe?"

Davis blanked. "Wha?"

Lex lined up his shot. "Davis, you're glowing."

Davis actually looked down before remembering things like that didn't happen to him anymore. "No, I just… had a good day."

"So our intrepid reporter still has Justin Gaines affixed to her?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Lois Lane. The woman's an incurable gossip. Heaven help us if she ever has to keep a secret of any importance."

"She doesn't love him," Davis said, driving his cue into billiard chalk.

"Keep that in mind. And remember that just because there's a goalie, doesn't mean you can't…" Lex sunk a shot, "score."

"One of Clark's quotables?"

"He has his moments," Lex confessed. "Sometimes, I wish I could adapt to the life of a corporate raider as easily as he has. He truly is his father's son."

The lights went out in a crash of thunder. Davis sighed. "Lex, you've really got to do something about your flair for the dramatic."

"Don't worry, the back-up generator should be coming online any second." It didn't. Lex hung up his cue. "Okay, worry."

He swept to his desk, and even though the Red had left him, Davis could still sense the distress Lex was bottling up. The hostage crisis, Palmer, Helen's betrayal – Lex had been through a lot. Davis wondered how good a friend he'd been to him. Then he saw Lex pulling a pistol out of a drawer.

"Whoa, Lex, it's just the storm."

"One thing I've learned in Smallville is to never take anything at face value." He tossed Davis a flashlight. "Let's see about that back-up."

* * *

Davis had always liked the dark before. It was cool and welcoming. The light blinded you. It defined you. In the dark, you could be anything. Some of his fondest memories were nights with Chloe, escaping the oppressive summer heat, watching the stars and wondering what their stories were.

But without the Red, the dark threatened. His flashlight was an ineffectual weapon against it. He stuck close to Lex.

Something pinged. Some leftover habit from the Red, triggered. There was an intruder. "Something's wrong," Davis said. "Wait here."

"I'm going to the generator, Davis."

Davis had already turned back. "Better hurry."

Lex's office didn't seem chic in the dark. It traveled back in time to its medieval roots. Davis kept an eye out for ghosts and goblins.

There, behind the massive painting of St. George came a sound like rats in the wall, only louder. Davis pulled on the painting to find it was mounted on a hinge that swung open to reveal a vault door.

A man stepped through it, Davis backpedaled. The man was all in black except for a glowing green tattoo. It faded.

"Thief!" Davis cried, for lack of anything better to say, and swung at him. His punch passed right through.

The robber laughed and punched back. Davis went down. Two more men with green tattoos stepped out of the vault. They carried heavy-looking duffel bags. The lights came back on, stabbing Davis's eyes.

They ran, literally passing through Lex when he stepped into the doorway. He watched them go, unreadable, then looked back into his office. "Davis!"

* * *

Davis pushed the icepack away. The EMT gave him a look and put it back against his black eye. Davis clenched his teeth. It was so… _irritating_ to have this little ache linger with him, causing him more pain in the long run than being stabbed, or a dozen other things he'd lived through. But then, he wasn't that man anymore. He didn't have the Red.

"I want to assure you, these men will be found and dealt with," Lex said, standing impassively by the back of the ambulance Davis was sitting in.

"By the police? I'd love to know what kind of prison could hold men who walk through walls." Davis tried to rein in his bitterness, now that he didn't have the Red to blame. He gave Lex an apologetic look.

"You'd be surprised what a prison can be." With that, Lex left to make another phone call.

Chloe saw the ambulance and assumed the worst. "Davis!" She rushed past the EMT. "Davis, oh my god, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's SVPD custom to send out two squad-cars and an ambulance whenever Lex stubs his toe."

"I'll get that," Chloe said, taking the icepack and pressing it against Davis's bruise a little harder than before. The EMT shrugged and moved on. "Justin and I were just passing through when we heard the call on the police scanner."

"Justin?"

"Oh, right." Chloe turned around to Justin Gaines, who was standing back, erratically illuminated by the police lights. He came forward like a vampire Chloe had invited in. "Davis, you remember Justin Gaines."

_Not really._ Davis took Justin's offered hand.

"Chloe's told me so much about you," Justin said, smug smile in place.

"Really? She hasn't mentioned you."

"Okay, I think that's enough shaking," Chloe said. She pulled Justin's hand away.

Davis did his best to block Justin's presence out. "Chloe, I saw a glowing green tattoo on all three of the guys. I think it might be meteor rock. That could explain how they walk through walls."

"They walk through walls?" Chloe repeated, excited.

Justin cleared his throat.

Davis went on. "So I was thinking tattoos like those you don't get just anywhere. Maybe if we call around, we could find these guys…"

"Actually, Justin and I were just headed to the Beanery. Pete says the Smiths are playing there."

"Oh."

"You wanna come with us? I'll let you buy me a latte."

"No, I…" Davis pushed down on her arm, taking the icepack away from his black eye. "I've got things to do."

* * *

Davis saw Eric in the lunchroom, alone. He sat down beside him. Eric didn't notice. His bloodshot eyes were fixed on Holly and her boyfriend.

"I could take that guy apart with one finger," Eric said. "It'd serve him right."

"Save it for the demons, Eric." Davis pulled a file folder out of his backpack. "I've got some for you now. Three guys with meteor rock tattoos, all with criminal records, all big spenders as of a few weeks ago. Wade Jennings, Blade Sawyer, and Jensen Root. They have a place just outside of town. We should check it out."

Eric gave Holly one last look. "Yeah. Sure." They stood. "Hey, Davis, lightning… that's like a sign from God, right?"

Davis hesitated, faltered. "I wouldn't go that far. Maybe you just pissed off Thor."

* * *

Davis had done a lot of things he wasn't proud of. Now he watched one. He watched Eric get out of his truck and walk toward the hide-out, where death metal thumped and screamed. Eric stepped inside. The music cut off in a sudden crash, replaced with screaming. Blood splattered one of the windows. The lights flickered and Davis heard a roar he could only call bestial.

Davis reached into his pocket, wished he still had his rosary.

Whitney Fordman phased through the wall and ran, clutching his bloody stomach. Eric went through the wall too. He left a hole.

Before he could catch up to Whitney, the quarterback fell, passing through the ground. He didn't come up. The back of his letterman jacket protruded from the dirt like a burial shroud.

Eric wiped off his crimson hands with a wet nap. "He called me a wimp once. Look at me now…"

"Whitney was one of them? He seemed like…" Davis shook his head like he had some water in his ear. "He seemed better than that."

"Who cares? He got you arrested, remember? Fuck him, he got what he deserved." Eric spat on the letterman jacket.

"Let's just go," Davis said, taking the truck out of park.

Eric climbed in next to him. "Anything you say, boss."

* * *

* * *

Author's notes: This chapter covers 1x13 Kinetic.

Come on. How boring would it have been if they just got together? Ironically enough, this whiplash sea change in Davis's attitude has actually hurt his chances with Chloe. There's something to be said for consistency, after all. And Justin Gaines, here earlier than in canon because of his e-mail correspondence with Chloe, has that virtue. If only Chloe knew he had issues with the people that put him in the hospital. But then, you'd have to be a psycho killer to crush on Chloe instead of Lana, amirite show?

So a lot of the development I edited in for Whitney with the last chapter and in the Jenkins chapter were so here, when Eric kills him, the thought isn't immediately "good riddance." We know from watching the first season that Whitney has a lot going on in his life and isn't just a douchebag. Unfortunately for him, Eric doesn't seem to much care.

Clark revealing himself to Lex (settle down, Clexers) was another thing that needed to happen for their relationship to advance to the next level (I said settle down!). Now they're really on the same team and Lex's life is on a very nice track. He's got the brother, he's got the best friend… he might even have the girlfriend. Stay tuned. I put it here because of how well it fit with Davis reaching out to Chloe. In both cases, they're doing what they should've done a long time ago… but is it too late?

One of the things I disliked about season one was that Clark loses his powers… you know, the powers he's spent the whole season grappling with… to Eric and he's just like "so long, sucker, gonna play some basketball and mack on Lana!" Davis is trying to be more responsible than that, but him helping Eric is also a way of avoiding his real problems. That'll come up some more in later chapters. Just the fact that he doesn't have the Red inside him anymore isn't a cure-all, he still has a long way to go and a lot of things he needs to admit to himself before he'd be any good for Chloe, or himself.

On Thursday, Justin is a meteor freak. Chloe finds out.


	12. Chapter 12

Justin looked at the Wall of Weird, smiling with a happiness Chloe could never understand. He had done it. Penetrated into the deepest recesses of who she really was. He'd pared Davis out of her heart and taken his place and it felt _good_. She was his. Body and soul.

"Cafeteria food scandal," he read. "It doesn't seem as freaky as cattle mutilations."

"You never tasted the meatloaf." Chloe sipped her latte.

Justin looked again at the article and saw Davis had written it. His fingers knotted with the desire to rip it down. "You must've been scared, having those freaks after you."

"It wasn't so bad. I had Davis." Chloe realized what she'd said. "Watching my back, I mean."

"I don't blame him." He rubbed her shoulders. "That is a great back."

Chloe bit her lip, trying not to feel uncomfortable. "I sent the license plate numbers of the car that hit you to my contact in the DMV. Since it's not the whole thing it'll take a while, but he's optimistic."

"Wow. You have a contact in the DMV. How's that even work?"

"We're in the same Scrubs community on Livejournal. So I'm expecting a fax any day now."

"Good, good." Justin looked back at the Wall of Weird. "You know, you don't have to worry about them anymore. I won't let any of them get near you. I can protect you."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're not the only one with a secret." Taking Chloe's hand, Justin spun her around like they were dancing. "Close your eyes and don't look down."

"If my eyes are closed, what difference does looking down—_holy crap!_"

She was floating. Chloe was actually walking on air. And Justin was holding her up, or tethering her down, or… she needed him.

"Justin, put me down."

"Just try to enjoy it."

"Put me down now!"

Justin moved her down a touch harder than necessary, making her feet slap against the floor. "All those letters you sent me about pushing the boundaries of science and uncovering weird phenomena, now you're afraid of me?"

Chloe shook her head. "I'm not afraid. It's just a lot to take in." She stopped, but his eyes held hers with an intense flare, forcing her to admit there was more. "Everyone else I've met with these kinds of powers has been corrupted by them."

"I'm not like that!"

"I know you're not," Chloe placated. "How about an interview for your girl? You can tell me how this happened to you. Take a seat."

Chloe got her tape recorder from her purse. When she saw that her taser was inside too, she carried the purse back with her and set it in her lap. Justin sat across from her.

"It's the meteor rocks, Chloe. They're magic."

* * *

It was easy to break the lock on Justin's locker with his new powers. Eric watched the U of the lock snap in two and he smiled. He had already done it three times, with the mischievousness of a young boy testing his limits and finding them pliant. Holly's locker had her cheerleading uniform in it, still smelling of her perfume. Lana's had a mosaic of magazine cut-outs forming a reflection of her own face. Chloe had pictures of her and Pete and Davis nestled inside her notebook. And Davis's was empty except for the pile of textbooks at the bottom, pens rolling beside them.

Justin had pictures of Chloe taped on the walls, some from last year when she'd worn her hair up. They orbited a drawing of her. His book pile bottomed out into a sheaf of paper. Eric toed the books aside and looked at the papers. The newspaper articles were about Justin's doctor and suits brought against him for malpractice, all dismissed or settled out of court. Below them was a drawing of the man in the newspaper photos, his hands lost in red ink.

"Good read?" Justin asked.

Once, Eric would've shied away from a confrontation even with a punk like Gaines, but not now. He stood to his full height and was surprised to find it was greater than Justin's. He could've sworn Justin was taller before he went to the hospital. Maybe he'd just slouched.

"I like the pictures. Grisly stuff, but good artwork. Exceptional, in fact…" He tossed them to Justin, who fumbled them. The stack of drawings and clippings exploded against his arms. "—for a guy with no fingers."

"Well, I'll take that as a compliment. Now why don't you get out of here before I get you thrown in detention for breaking and entering?"

"I was just leaving. Give my love to Chloe, enh?"

As soon as Eric was gone, Justin slammed the locker shut with his mind. Eric would get his, but first things first. He had a date with Chloe.

* * *

The thought of Chloe with Justin no longer filled Davis with rage. That kind of sustained anger had left with the Red. The lingering regret was much worse.

So Chloe's name on his caller ID was like a lifeline. She asked to meet with him. He agreed without a moment's thought.

They agreed to hook up in the barn. He waited on the loft, watching the stars come out. Finally, the headlights of her Bug washed over him. He looked out the window as Chloe and Justin got out of the car.

Regrets. That was the real price of power.

He went downstairs to greet them. "Hi Chlo—Justin."

"Hey!" Chloe took a step toward him and held it, hands shoved in her pockets. "I just had to share, it's so… cool!"

Davis smiled at Chloe. She never did have time for melancholy when there was a story to be had.

"Justin, show him."

Justin looked from Chloe to Davis and back again. "We can't trust him."

"Show me what?"

"He's my best friend. Justin, come on. He's harmless."

"Alright. If it'll make my girl happy."

Davis glanced aside as they kissed. _My girl. Bastard._

He noticed the hay on the floor rising, like leaves caught in a gust. There was no wind. The hay danced around Justin as he stood there, Chloe in his arms. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Ice-cold."

* * *

"Awesome!" Eric said, wrapping his lips around a bottle of Mike's Hard Lemonade he'd brought over when Davis had called him.

Davis paced the barn, still feeling Justin's intrusion like a pin in his flesh. His thoughts were a maelstrom he couldn't escape. Justin was a demon. But he was something else too. He hadn't hurt anyone.

Davis sat down. He'd called Eric, hoping that if God wouldn't speak to him, He'd speak to Eric instead. "How is a single aspect of this awesome?"

"God has basically given you permission to kill the boyfriend of the girl you love. How is that _not_ awesome?"

Davis looked at him sharply. "I don't think Justin's bad. He's just… wounded."

"Yeah?" Eric took another drink, reached into his coat. "Look what I found in his locker."

"What are you doing in his locker?" Davis asked as he looked at the sheaf of papers Eric had pulled out anyway.

"Looking for this. Pretty gruesome, huh?"

Davis looked away, into Eric's eyes. "We've done worse. It's not illegal to have a fantasy, Eric. He hasn't hurt anyone."

"Yet. We can stop him before he kills."

"Yeah. By talking to him."

Eric dropped the pictures to the ground. "Why do you even care, Gandhi?"

"Chloe loves him. If she loves him, there must be some good there. She wouldn't be in love with a killer."

"And is this the same Chloe who can't figure out you're the town hero?" Eric asked, smirking. "Don't think she's much in the brainpan."

"Shut your mouth."

Eric cringed at the harshness in Davis's tone, then recovered, hoping Davis hadn't noticed. "Make me." He drew up to his full height. "Get it straight, Kent. You're living vicariously through me, not him."

"Don't touch him. That's your warning."

* * *

Davis felt an unexpected lightness as he walked up the steps to Justin's front door. It didn't feel like he'd lost Chloe, it felt like he'd let her go and now, she was free of the shadow world that had taken him and wanted to spread to her. He could forgive Justin for being with her. He just couldn't forgive himself for the opposite.

He knocked on the door. Justin answered in a housecoat and Wonder Woman boxer shorts.

"Oh, I thought you were the pizza guy."

"Not guilty. Mind if I come in?"

"Yeah, sure." Justin stepped out of the way, belting his robe. "Sorry about the mess, I wasn't expecting anyone over until my date with Chloe tonight. Oops." He smiled. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Davis walked in. The house was cozy and lived-in, but with odd shadows on the walls in the shape of major appliances.

"We had to sell a lot of shit. Hospital bills." He held up his bandaged hands. "Money well-spent, huh?"

"Justin, we need to talk." He followed Justin into the kitchen. "It's important."

"To you, I'm sure." Justin dug a Mountain Dew out of the fridge. The toaster and microwave were nowhere in sight. "I know what this is about. You mind?"

He tossed Davis the bottle. Davis twisted off the cap and set the bottle down on the table.

"Chloe used to talk about you all the time. It wasn't hard to read between the lines. But you never sealed the deal and now she's with me."

"Yes. She is," Davis said carefully. "But that's not what this is about."

"Isn't it? You want Chloe, but now I've got her. And it's tearing you up inside." Justin drank.

Davis waited for him to finish his chug and wipe his mouth on his sleeve. His eyes were faraway, but his voice was constant. "I know you blame the doctor for your hands. I know you're still furious over the hit and run."

Justin's voice hitched, fingers tightening on the bottle of Mountain Dew. Or trying to. "And why shouldn't I be? Eight months and no arrest!"

"This isn't about him. It's about you. You have a choice. You can live in the light or in the dark, but you can't do both. And the longer you spend in the dark, the harder it is to find your way home. The more you find has changed… gone away. I know you want to be good to Chloe. So did I. But you have to choose." Davis sat down gingerly, wearily, like he was nursing a wound. "Murderers can't be in love. There's no room for it in their hearts."

Justin just stared at him, wondering where that voice could come from that it could sound so lost. "Why do you care? Why are you hurt?"

Davis laid his palms flat on the table. "She deserves to be happy. Maybe you do too. So be happy. Don't be angry. Don't be vengeful. Don't be bitter. Just be happy. That's all."

Justin held still for a long time, waiting for Davis to say something else, his hands shaking. He kneaded them against each other. "When the car hit me… it was like I'd broken in half. He didn't even slow down."

"I know."

"I can't draw anymore. I loved the feel of the paper under my pencil. It still hurts sometimes." Justin wiped at his eyes. "You want a drink?"

Davis stood up slowly. "No. I'm good."

After Davis left, Justin spent a long time looking at the DMV report he'd stolen from Chloe's fax machine.

He went to find Chloe's number.

* * *

It felt weird to be doing this without Davis, like a betrayal. But the Red told him it would be okay, and who was he to argue with the Red? Davis was the one who was no longer faithful to it. And he'd never accepted help, so why should Eric?

He listened to the beat of Justin's heart as the villain moved around, into his bedroom, then in view of a window. Eric wasted no time. He burst through the wall, so fast he was almost part of the gray dust cloud. Both were on Justin before he could react.

Eric's knuckles burned. He quenched them in Justin's heart, not realizing until his bloodlust had passed that he had grown claws. Justin went down, gasping, bleeding. He tried to pull himself up on a bedpost. Eric rested his foot on the back of Justin's head, letting him feel the tread. Then he lifted his foot up. Then he brought it back down. Then he left.

* * *

  


* * *

  


* * *

Author's Notes: This chapter covers 1x14 Zero.

So, obviously, I wanted to do something a bit different than the expected story here and make Justin into a bit of a sympathetic figure. Someone who Davis identifies with and who Eric targets in his growing… whatever. I think it's actually something that could stand to be expanded on, both the Chloe/Justin relationship and the Davis/Eric partnership, but this probably isn't the project for that. Things are moving fast now, as you might have gleamed from how close we're getting to the "season finale"

I actually don't have that much to say about this chapter, since a lot of what it is is the repercussions that come out next chapter, and I'm not posting that until I get back from my vacation. That's when the shit really hits the fan. I do have a lot of notes for how to grow this part of the story, adding meteor freaks and giving this weird codependent relationship between Davis and Eric more face time, but for now, let's just enjoy the shocking shock of Eric taking out Justin like a Hefty bag.


	13. Chapter 13

Long months of keeping the Red locked inside permitted Davis the control to hold himself steady as Eric invited him in, brought him up to his room. Then Davis exploded, grabbing Eric by the lapels and slamming him against the closet door so hard it almost cracked. He knew Eric had his powers now. It didn't make much of a difference.

"You didn't have to do that! I talked him down!"

Eric breathed deeply, trying to be nonchalant about Davis flinging him around like a ragdoll. "He was planning to kill whoever ran him over. We both know it."

"No we don't. He was an innocent man. You still believe that, right, innocent until proven guilty?"

Eric shoved Davis back, pitching him into a bookshelf. It cracked, spilling paperbacks onto the floor. Davis fell on all fours, the breath knocked out of him.

"I did it for you!! Do you know how many people I've saved? Have you kept track? Women, kids, old folks. I'm a fucking hero. So what if he was innocent? I still beat the spread. You really think God is going to judge me for one little high school student? You think God never killed an innocent person? All the firstborn in Egypt, you think they all deserved it?"

Davis wiped the blood from his mouth. "No one deserves it, Eric."

"I think you'd better go."

"Or what? You'll kill me too?"

"I'm only supposed to kill murderers, right? I think I'd be in the clear. You're just a has-been, trying to relive past glories."

Davis spat blood on the floor. "Nothing I did was glorious."

* * *

Davis didn't go to school the next day.

He tried to. He picked up his backpack and walked to the place where he and Chloe once waited for the bus together, but when he saw her there alone, as forlorn as the figurehead of a wrecked ship… He couldn't even bear to look at her. She was shut to him by a moat of sadness. He walked home, locked himself in his room, and looked in his Bible. The words were cold and dead on the page.

He turned the gossamer pages, looking for some comfort he could offer Chloe, and when the pages wouldn't turn fast enough he ripped them out of the book. None of it offered any hope, any salvation, not to Chloe or him. He threw the Bible, putting a dent in the wall, and it landed on its spine and fell open, the pages stirring three times before settling.

Something made him walk the miles over to that fallen book, pick it up and strum his eyes over the pages like fingers in a lover's hair. He read aloud, his voice catching and cracking.

"Then she said, 'Behold, your sister-in-law has gone back to her people and her gods; return after your sister-in-law.' But Ruth said, 'Do not urge me to leave you or turn back from following you; for where you go, I will go, and where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. Thus may the Lord do to me, and worse, if anything but death parts you and me.'

"When Naomi saw that she was determined to go with her, she said no more to her."

* * *

Chloe was still waiting for the bus when he returned to her. Davis could move pretty fast when he wanted to. He stepped out of the cornstalks.

Chloe turned, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"I heard what happened," Davis said. "I'm sorry."

She rubbed fresh tears off on her sleeve.

"I'm here. If you need anything. I know I wasn't before, but I am now."

The tears finally stopped coming. "Shut up, Davis."

She threw her arms around him and pulled him close with all the strength her tiny body could muster.

"Just shut up."

* * *

The funeral was small, cramped somehow. Davis wore his Sunday suit, with a new black button-down that had practically bankrupted him.

"You look nice," Chloe said guiltily. She sat next to him, head only supported by his shoulder. She had webbed his hand in both of hers and that was the only thing right in this hell. It almost made it all worth it.

The preacher read verses about green pastures and laying down burdens and Davis felt like laughing, like he'd heard a private joke. He wondered if he would ever feel like laughing again after today.

Chloe let a drawing of herself that Justin had given her drift down into the grave. Davis dropped two roses in. They rolled off the coffin to the bottom of the grave, two red eyes blinking.

* * *

Chloe didn't go inside for the wake. She stayed out by the grave, the midday sun beating down with blasphemous cheer. Davis's only concession to the heat was loosening his tie. He stood by Chloe, her lightning rod, ready to shield her from the ills of the world the moment she asked him.

"Am I a good person?" she said at last.

"The best." Davis coughed. "At least, last time I checked…"

"I've never done anything really bad, I swear to God. But everyone's entitled to do something really bad once in their life, right? Something for them to be ashamed of and something they can be forgiven for. Everyone needs a regret." Tears had started to flow again, and Davis couldn't bear to stand apart from her. He melted to her like quicksilver.

"Yeah, I guess," he whispered into the smell of her hair.

She looked up at him, her eyes full and brimming with tears. "So can you let me be bad, just this once? I'm not a bad person, I just need to do something bad. Just once."

"Yes."

She kissed him. It wasn't much more than an invitation, a confirmation, a yes to a question he'd never asked and always been asking. When she pulled away, it was to bury her tear-stained face in his chest.

"You were always my choice."

He petted her hair until she stopped crying, then he cupped the back of her neck, tilted her face to his, and kissed her without hesitation. It was long, thought it had nothing to do with passion or lust. It was just his way of saying 'I forgive you.'

* * *

Lex stood carefully abreast of the funeral, knowing he wouldn't be welcome, but still intrigued. An autopsy had revealed Gaines had Kryptonite in his bloodstream. He had been a Kryp. It made Lex wonder who had killed him. It had to be someone strong enough to ram through a brick wall.

Lex didn't want to suspect Clark, but he couldn't rule it out.

More presently, he watched Davis comfort Chloe. He would offer his advice, but Davis seemed to have things well in hand. Maybe he would donate to Justin's favorite charity in Davis's name. That seemed the kind of thing that would impress Chloe more than flashy cars.

"Mr. Luthor," his assistant intoned, announcing her presence.

"Yes, Gina?"

"There's a man to see you. He says it's urgent."

"Bring it up," Lex turned his back on the fresh grave. "I could use a laugh."

The man was obviously one of Phelan's old informants, now as lost as a bee without a queen. He clutched a thickened manila envelope to his chest. "Phelan told me to bring this to you if I hadn't heard from him for three months. It's been three."

Lex held his hand out. "Well, here I am."

"He said there'd be a reward."

"Gina, cut him a check."

The man handed Phelan's envelope to Lex.

"How much, sir?" Gina asked.

"Well, he was a good mailman… what's the going rate for a postage stamp?"

After a few flicks of her wrist, Gina handed the check to the courier.

* * *

They slept on the same floor that night. Going to Chloe's house, which was empty as a punctured lung with Gabe away on business. They drank wine coolers that Gabe had forgotten were in the fridge and Chloe talked about Justin, like she was purging it. She had worn a black mini-dress over black pants to the funeral; they were the only dark clothes she owned. When she kicked off her pants, Davis could see the pale crescents of her ass. He took off his jacket and tie and Chloe burrowed into him like he was a security blanket, the magic kind that actually worked.

"I think Justin was murdered," she said, safe in his arms. The current explanation was that a drunk driver had crashed into his house, then backed up and drove off. Chloe didn't buy it. No one really did. "I think it had to do with his powers."

"You could drive yourself crazy thinking about this," Davis said, not sure if he wanted to push her onward or make her back off. He felt as ugly as he had after killing Kelvin. Uglier.

"I think it might've been the commandos." She was quiet a moment, her face resting against his chest. "People are dying, Davis. I want to stop this. I want to pick up the rock and show the world all the filthy things wiggling around underneath. Will you help me lift it?"

Davis looked up at the ceiling, holding onto Chloe as tight as he could. "I will. I promise."

"Thank you." She kissed the patch of skin exposed at his collar. "Now, how well do you know Lex Luthor?"

They kept talking until Chloe drifted away to the sound of his heartbeat. He straightened her dress before he went to sleep himself.

He bore the pleasure of her touch like a weight. There was still one thing he could deny himself, one way he could refuse to benefit from Justin's death and his own hypocrisy. He wouldn't touch Chloe, not until he was sure she wanted him and not the grief. Otherwise, hopefully, she would use him as a salve, a stepping stone to someone who deserved her. And if it was him she wanted, for whatever insane reason, then he would acknowledge that when he could deal with it. Someday far in the future.

* * *

"Hiya, Lex. If you're watching this, I guess I'm dead. Now don't break out the bubbly just yet; I want to take the bastard who did this down with me. I figure it was either you or the Kent kid, trying to protect his secret. If it's you, knowing his secret makes you his next target. And if it's him, I think you'll complicate his life quite nicely. Enjoy the show."

Lex leaned forward, hands on his knees. He watched Phelan's tape cut to a shaky handheld view. Bob Rickman was on a cell phone in the middle of a vacant lot, talking business, his plans for the Kent property. Davis slid out of the shadows like they'd been embracing him.

"I want you to give my father back his land. And then I want you to get out of Smallville."

"And I want to bulldoze your farm and put up a shopping mall. God answers the prayers of the guy with the biggest pocketbook."

"Not always." Davis invaded Bob's space, towering over him. Rickman didn't look scared at having 6'1 of Kansas farmboy bearing down on him. Just the opposite. "How'd you cheat my dad?"

"Oh, like this I imagine." Bob grabbed Davis's hand. "Why don't you go for a drive, Kent? And once you're cruising along at about 70, why don't you drive into a tree or something?"

Davis held onto Bob's hand and slowly closed his fingers. "Don't tempt me."

"What! Ahhh!" Bob screamed, the camera zooming in on blood pouring through Davis's fingers. "What are you!?"

Davis struck him in the throat, once, hard. Rickman flew back ten feet, landed, and didn't get up.

"I wish I knew."

Lex stopped the tape.

Took a drink of vodka.

Rewound it.

Watched it again.

* * *

  


* * *

  


* * *

  


* * *

Author's notes: This chapter covers 1x15 Nicodemus.

This is one case where my character's feelings mirrored my own. Davis and Chloe had been on the merry-go-round for so long that I knew the most expected thing would be for them to continue to be separated by Justin's death, but having Chloe actually say "fuck it, I like this boy" and then going from there… fun. Because for a while there, it seemed like I was in danger of having every aspect of the story move forward _except_ for the Chloe/Davis… not good in a Chloe/Davis story. I mean, Clark and Lois have probably done it up the butt by now.

The idea of Phelan giving out Davis's secret was a nice little Chekov's gun, since I could pretty much spring it whenever the story was slowing down and have some instant drama. Drama in a can!, you might call it. Better believe that's going to get some follow-up next time.

A lot of times, when a character in a story is a Christian, and not black, it's usually that they're a serial killer or a bigot or something, and I played a little with that, but I also wanted to show some positive aspects to Davis's Christianity without being preachy or all 'Left Behind'-y. It's something that's important to the character, otherwise it wouldn't be there. Plus, that's the most femslash I can work into the story, at least until the Davis/Chloe/Lois threesome. Joke. Maybe? Yes.

So Davis's life isn't just a constant state of descent and doom and gloom, but there are glimmers of hope even when it looks like he's totally screwed, and one of those is that his faith has been tested and is coming back a bit stronger than it was before. Plus, now he's got Chloe, even if he has no idea what to do with her.

Next time, Chloe and Davis go on a date. Uh, squee?


	14. Chapter 14

It was a beautiful day in Smallville, sunny but with a cool breeze and plenty of shade for relief. Davis wore a straw hat that shaded his eyes. Despite the heat that put trickles of sweat at the small of his back, he welcomed Chloe's body warmth when she grappled with him, occasionally kamikazing into his side as they walked along, trying playfully to dislodge him from his steady stride. It was like they were kids along. Davis felt a smile on his face and realized he didn't have to fake it.

A hand slapped Davis's ass. He turned to Chloe. "Was that you?"

Chloe looked up from the ice cream cone she was licking with pronounced innocence. She grinned devilishly. "Yeah. Sorry to use you as a sex object, but Holly and Lana were talking about us, so I thought we might as well give them something to talk about."

"Well, so long as it's not Old Man Jeb." Davis looked back at the man who'd just passed him. They waved when they noticed each other looking.

"I'm just so sick of those bitches!" Chloe gestured so animatedly Davis was worried her ice cream was going to fall off its cone. "I dated Justin for one month before he died, but just because I didn't check myself into a monastery they treat me like a black widow."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I'm very happy you've moved on."

"Are you?" Chloe asked as they passed under the dappled shade of an elm tree. Davis kissed her briefly on the lips, trying to be reassuring, and she smiled, trying to be reassured. "Hey, give me your hand."

"When will I get it back?" Davis joked, holding it out.

Chloe locked her fingers in his and they started moving again. David felt the dainty softness of her hand, almost lost in his. Her hair brushed his upper arm when she leaned in close to whisper in his ear, her breath hitting his cheek when she pulled away, always to return. It was easy to believe the whole hellish business was just a nightmare, dissolving with the morning dew. He so wanted to believe.

Davis smelled smoke.

It was obvious no one else had detected it yet. He steered them down a street toward it, and by the end of the block he could see the flames licking out of the Beanery's windows, a crowd of soot-stained refugees and onlookers crowding outside like antibodies to an infection. Two were crying, a couple, the woman sobbing "My baby! My baby!"

"Oh, that poor woman," Chloe said, while Davis could only roll his eyes. _Who the hell leaves a baby in a burning building? What, did you just_ forget _about it?_ He let go of Chloe's hand.

"Wait here," he said before thrusting himself into the crowd. They gave ground before the big guy with the bad attitude. In a moment, he was close enough for the heat to bring up his sweat. He didn't know if he believed in redemption. He didn't even know if he believed in God. But doing the right thing… that he could believe in.

He went into the flames.

* * *

It was hot, of course. Like the blast of air when you opened an oven, multiplied by a hundred. Davis felt his skin blister and knew it wouldn't heal for a long time. He kept low. He didn't know how much the Red had left in him, or how it had scarred him, but his senses were more acute than many's. Soon, he heard a baby's cries. Upstairs.

He moved, hit the stairwell and followed the smoke up. The baby wailed again, other side of the door. Davis pulled his sleeves over his hands and turned the knob.

Next room, flames were spreading fast. Half the room was an inferno. He saw the baby's stroller. The flames were between them and widening. Davis didn't give himself time to think. He turned a long table toward the flame, hopped up on it, and ran. His jump carried him over the flames, hot air shooting up his pant legs like liquid heat, then he landed and the ground ripped itself away from him with noisy claws.

He fell through the floor, grabbing hold of a ceiling beam to suspend himself above the firestorm below. His shoes were melting, vulcanized soles dripping down. He tried to pull himself up as the baby's cries dwarfed the sound of cracking wood. One leg. He just had to get one leg up over the ledge and then he could die or whatever.

"Whoa. What an uncomfortable looking situation." Davis looked up. Eric stood over him, the baby in his arms. She was crying. "I think you should stop playing hero, Kent. You're not very good at it."

"Help me!"

"Oh, now you need my help." Eric paced, his feet treading dangerously close to Davis's fingers. "But when a demon's fucking your girl, then you don't need my help. Then, you deny me."

"Eric, for God's sake—"

"God." Eric knelt down in front of Davis, speaking like he'd just had a brainstorm: "Why don't you pray to God? Ask him to put out the flames?" He tickled the baby's chin—"Coochie-coo!"—snapped back to Davis. "Do it!"

Davis felt the strength bleeding out of his hands. "God, please put out the flames."

"I don't think He heard you. Louder."

"God! Put out the flames!"

"He's not listening to you, Davis. Why would He? You're Judas."

"Eric, I can't hold on!"

"Say please."

"_Please._"

"You don't have to stress out, Davis. I heard you." Grabbing Davis by the wrist, he pulled him up. "You should be more careful. I won't always be there to help you."

* * *

Eric emerged from the fire a golden hero, singed but not burnt, cradling the baby in one arm and with Davis slung over the shoulder of the other. Davis felt sunlight strike his eyes, then he was set down and had an oxygen mask pressed to his face. He gulped greedily.

A hand laced with Davis's and he recognized Chloe's fingers. He forced himself out of his haze to slip off the mask and tell her he was alright. She nodded and pushed the mask back over his mouth before kissing the clear plastic. "My hero."

Nearby, Eric was being interviewed by the local news. Davis tried to turn away from him and focus on Chloe, but the sounds of his arrogance were hard to ignore.

"Local boy makes good," Lex intoned in his signature half-sarcasm. He noted how Chloe shifted herself protectively in front of Davis. "You, on the other hand, should probably leave the rescue work to the First Responders."

"I'll try to remember that." Insisting to Chloe he was fine, Davis took off the oxygen mask. "So what brings you to Smallville, Lex? I kinda thought the city council had taken out a restraining order against you."

"They wish. I was just in the neighborhood on some business, but it can wait."

Davis breathed out of the oxygen mask.

* * *

Davis was still coughing when the paramedic finally got around to pronouncing him fit to walk home, late that evening. Chloe was back in good spirits, joshing with Davis about his heroics. She didn't seem to care that they were ineffectual, just that he'd tried.

"I'm thinking of taking up Buddhism, actually," Chloe giggled, her arms wrapped around his waist.

"That's okay, when you die I'll put in a good word with God," Davis joked right back. "We'll try to put you in one of the nicer circles of hell."

"Mmm. And you'll come visit?"

"I'll bring Aquafina."

They passed a newspaper machine, Chloe's eyes darting to it like a glutton's to chocolate. When she saw the headline of the Daily Planet, Davis felt her stiffen. He brushed his fingers through her hair protectively. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"You see the headline in this morning's DP? 'Monsters Among Us.'"

"I don't get the Planet."

"I have a subscription. Cancelled as of this morning. Some reporter named White did a story on Justin's death. He knows about the meteor-infected, threw up a bunch of statistics about our murder rate. He's making it out like our town is under attack."

"Maybe it is," Davis muttered dully.

Chloe stopped to look at him. "They aren't all bad. Justin. Justin was good."

The sun set and they walked in the pools of light spilling out of the different houses, not thinking about what was going on behind those shut windows and closed doors. Chloe's house was ahead of them. Gabe's car wasn't in the driveway. The lights were off. Chloe's keys clinked together as she pulled them out of her pocket. She unlocked the door. The porch shaded them from the streetlights, making Chloe half-shadow.

"Lovely night," Davis said, his voice not silencing the crickets' chirping.

"Yeah." Chloe leaned against the unlocked door, a bar of light thrown across her golden hair. "You wanna… do something?"

His night vision was good enough to see her eyes, the hesitance, the slight expectancy, the small anticipation. It made him want things he had no right to. He took a deep breath he hoped she couldn't see. "It's late. I should go."

"Don't you want to at least feel my tits?" She tried to play it off like a joke, dazzling smile plastered across her face, but he'd known her long enough to hear the sincerity underneath.

His heart raced. It wasn't just the offer, it was how she'd said it, so bold and unafraid and everything he wanted it to be. Just a normal guy, making out with his normal girlfriend. Like nothing lurked behind them and nothing loomed ahead of them.

_Justin was good._ She wasn't over him. Would she ever be? He wasn't being buried in dirt, he was being buried in nostalgia and young love and might-have-been.

"I'll settle for a goodnight kiss," Davis said, trying to defuse the sudden awkwardness with aww-shucks charm.

"Okay, yeah…"

It was brief, unsatisfactory, like chewing ice cubes after you'd skipped breakfast. When he walked away it was with his hands fisted in his pockets, wondering when his perfect life would get back on-track.

* * *

"So, how'd your date go?" Lois asked, although it was pretty obvious by the way Chloe was lazily prodding her ice cream.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Hm?"

"And not, you know… _there_?"

"Oh."

Lois decided that if Chloe got to have ice cream, then this conversation could do with a beer for her.

"Lois, how do you let a guy know you want to have sex without being a slut?"

"You wore that top? I think he knows."

Lois finished her bottle and opened another as Chloe ran through the date, from the comfortable intimacy into the unbearable awkwardness at the end.

"Performance anxiety," Lois pronounced, killing her second beer and none the worse for wear.

"He's a virgin? That is so sweet…"

"Well, that's one word for it. So just relax. He'd probably at home right now, just as nervous as you are."

* * *

The morning paper had an interview with Eric 'Superboy' Summers. Davis thought Chloe would probably be overjoyed with that, countering the public perception of the slowly emerging meteor freaks, Kansas's open secret. People who were supposed to stay in nightmares. Davis drank his orange juice and read the interview. When Eric said he was doing God's will, Davis's fingers twitched so hard he almost ripped the paper in half.

* * *

  


* * *

  


* * *

Author's notes: This chapter covers 1x16 Stray.

Here, I really wanted to move into the Eric Summers plot and spell out this new act. Davis obviously has only_ this_ much control over Eric, yet he can't jeopardize it because that would mean he'd lose Chloe. So he's almost deluding himself over Eric, which can't last forever.

I should note that Lex isn't getting the reset button hit on knowing something's up with Davis (not to be too punny, but where there's smoke, there's fire, and shouldn't the fact that Clark _has_ a secret be enough of a secret?). He's taking his time on this because he has his own agenda, which will become apparent with the next chapter. Yes, it is a Luthor chapter. But don't you worry, there'll be enough Chloe and Lois for everyone.


	15. Chapter 15

Clark looked at himself in the antique mirror, turning this way and that like a model on a catwalk. The tuxedo looked good on him. He grinned broadly at his reflection. "Looking good, you handsome son of a bitch."

"You'd look better if you knew how to tie a bowtie." Lex appeared in the reflection, stepping out of the darkness behind him. Clark rolled his eyes as Lex did up his bowtie for him.

"Found a date yet?" Clark asked, earning a tightened bowtie across his windpipe. "Just offering my expertise."

"I have an offer on the table."

"Lois has a sister staying in Edge City…"

"Clark, no." Lex stepped out from behind Clark and straightened his own tie in the mirror. "Just so you know, this is how you wear a tuxedo."

Clark shook his head. "I'm spending my Saturday night at the opera. You're a bad influence, Lex. You've even got me—" He bit his lip. "I'm going to tell Lois. Tonight."

"You want me to be your wingman?"

"I want you to be my brother."

Lex turned away from his reflection to Clark. "She's a good woman, Clark. You're making a wise choice."

"I know. But thanks for saying so."

Gina was waiting for them when they came out of the room. Lex motioned for Clark to go on.

"The tickets the opera house gave you were inadequate," she said. "I've had them switched for balcony seats."

"Thank you, Gina." Lex took the tickets. "There's an evening gown inside. I would appreciate it if you tried it on."

"Mr. Luthor, I don't understand."

"I'm a driven man, Miss Grenier, not blind. And I enjoy your company. Join me at the opera?"

"Five minutes," Gina said, slipping into the dressing room.

"I'll count." Lex watched her disappear, then turned to see Clark watching him. His brother's eyebrows rose. "Don't start."

"No secretary jokes, promise."

"Oh boys?" Lois stood at the head of the stairs. "How do I look?"

Their eyes followed her as she came down the steps. Her dress was both classical and shockingly brazen. It was red saffron, ankle-length but cut low at the cleavage, a strap cutting horizontally across the halter.

"For once, I envy you," Lex said.

Clark went along with the lie. "For once, you have a reason to."

Lex's phone rang. He smiled indulgently at Clark as his brother took Lois's hand and kissed it. He answered the phone. "You have forty seconds. Use them."

It was Hamilton.

Lex listened, his eyes looking around in growing desperation, closing for a long moment, then opening, cold and unreadable. "Don't move. I'll be right there." He hung up as Gina emerged, taking her glasses off. Her blue dress was more conventional than Lois's, but if anything more stunning. She wore it with a demure beauty that would make any man want to hear what she had to say.

"You're a picture of loveliness," Lex said distantly, the longing burned out of his voice. "But something's come up. Give me regrets to Clark and enjoy the opera."

* * *

Lois almost gasped as she stepped out into the night air. One thing she'd never get used to about Kansas was how cold it got as soon as the sun set. Add to that the dress she'd put on instead of her nice comfy jeans and sweater and it looked like Clark would be taking a popsicle to the opera. She really hoped opera houses had central heating.

Clark wrapped a stole around her, which helped a little, but her legs still felt like they would snap off. She looked over at Gina, her arms covered by a coat to warm up her already cozy dress, and felt a brief flash of resentment. Frostbite in the name of fashion; it made her want to shave her head and join a commune.

Then she saw Lex stepping out to his waiting limo, still straightening the business suit he'd changed into. His limo was parked right behind the Town Car Clark was taking them out in. She knew it might be nothing, but she didn't get these kinds of opportunities often. She checked her reflection in the Town Car's window, then gestured for Gina to get in first, then saw that Lex was still sweeping dramatically down the stairs.

Clark held the door open wider for her. "Madam, your carriage awaits."

"Okay, yeah." Deciding she couldn't delay any longer, Lois made for the door. She paused halfway in. "Did my dress just rip?"

"No, it didn't," Gina said, hiding her obvious impatience behind 24-hour professionalism.

"I heard a rip," Lois said. "Clark, did you?"

"No, I didn't."

"If there's a tear, I don't want to make it any bigger. Could you please check?"

Clark looked her over, trying to keep things cursory despite the temptation to linger. "Definitely looks like it's all in one piece."

Still bent over, Lois looked to Gina. "Okay, could you make sure it didn't rip in the front?"

"I've never heard of a dress ripping in the front."

"Could you just check?"

Gina looked her over. "No rips."

"You didn't look!"

"I just did."

"You glanced!"

"Lois, c'mon, we're gonna be late," Clark said.

A few feet away, Lex looked at the commotion, shook his head, and told the driver "Take me to Cadmus Labs."

Lois hustled into the Town Car. "Whew! Close call there."

* * *

"You have a lot of tension, you know that?"

Davis grunted, grimacing, as Chloe popped a bone into place. That's what it felt like anyway. He was facedown on the couch, face turned to watch TV while Chloe straddled his back.

Davis breathed out a sigh of release as Chloe worked her fingers deeper into his neck. "You should do this for a living."

"If the Pulitzer Prize doesn't pan out, you mean." Chloe dug her elbow into his back.

"Oh God." Davis buried his face in a cushion and paused Buffy the Vampire Slayer. "I don't deserve you."

"Remember that when you're shopping for a Valentine's Day gift."

"I thought that you thought that V-day was just a commercialized fake holiday made to sell chocolates."

"Then I remembered I like chocolate. Hint, hint."

Chloe heard her phone ring and tried answering it before she realized it was a text message. It was from Lois. Lex was going to Cadmus Labs and it seemed important.

Chloe tried to text back a thank you, but she settled for 'thx u.'

"So awkward," she said, grabbing her keys. "This is never going to catch on."

"Where are you going? We got a…" Davis jerked his thumb at the TV. "Don't leave me here to deal with Buffy and Spike's epic love all by myself."

"Sorry, it's my dad. Impromptu family outing." She bent down to kiss the back of his neck. "If I'm late, he'll assume I had to get dressed."

"Well… have fun."

* * *

As embarrassed as Clark was to admit it, the opera wasn't as much fun without Lex. His brother had a way of transmuting the impenetrable singing into high drama, building a bridge between the ancient lyrics and the sentiments they were meant to express. Without him, Clark felt fidgety as a school kid during a lecture. Especially since Father had said their seats were rubbish (to Gina's offense) and insisted on being joined in his private box. Already, an aria had brought a tear to his eye. Clark couldn't tell if it was in happiness or sorrow.

A boy around Clark's age in a powder-blue tuxedo, blurring nauseously with a red bow-tie, sat down in Lex's seat.

"Son, this is Eric Summers," Lionel said, with the ratcheted smile of a business deal being closed.

The opera was predictably tense without Lex to act as buffer. Lionel eyed Lois like he was never quite prepared to accept she wasn't a mirage, while Eric openly leered at her. Clark set his program on fire halfway through Act 2. He'd never told his father about that ability.

Afterward, Gina escorted Lois out ahead of the crowd. Eric and the Luthors stayed, watching the crowd file out and the curtain sway shut. Clark left, but looked back with X-ray vision. Watched as Lionel took a long, thin box from an assistant.

"Eric, you've been given a great gift, and there are always those who try to exploit such gifts. Just so, there will be those who possess the wisdom to guide you on the hero's path. It takes no great logic to see how unappreciated you are at home. Even among your peers, you're only envied, never loved. You can't trust them not to turn against you. So allow me to redress the balance with this token of sincere gratitude for the good you've done." He presented the box to Eric. "Open it."

Eric did, taking out a slender dagger of exotic design. He waved it as if caressing the air. "It's beautiful."

"It's a Palak, what the Kawatche Indians would call a Starblade. It's said that Naman will use it to find his great enemy. Sageeth."

"Who's Naman?"

"For that, I suggest you visit your local library. I think you'll find it an interesting read." Lionel patted Eric on the shoulder. "Good luck, my boy."

Eric stood there, lost in the Starblade's sharpness. As Lionel passed Clark, he said "Leave him be. We have larger problems to solve."

"He's a Kryp. We can't just let him loose!"

"I let you run loose," Lionel said warningly. "Remember the prophecy. Either you will kill Sageeth or he will kill you. The Starblade is meant to be used by Naman to destroy Sageeth. If Sageeth tries to use its power, the Starblade will destroy itself."

"So Eric isn't Sageeth."

"Yes, even though his strength and speed are growing similar to yours. But he is making quite an advertisement of himself. So much so that Sageeth might think _he_ is Naman. If that's the case, 'Superboy' can lead us to the real thing. And then, you can fulfill your destiny."

* * *

The ironic thing was, despite the corporate intrigue and the avenging-Justin's-death thing and the distinct possibility Lex would disappear her if she were found out, Chloe was having fun. All the sneaking around and the black outfits and the long-range microphone and the digital camera… it made for a damn good time. Maybe she'd been a cat burglar in another life.

Of course, she had lied to Davis, which was not at all fun (well, maybe just a little, given his own sterling tendencies when it came to honesty). But as nice as it would've been to have the walking mountain range backing her up, a taser would probably be as much help. And she couldn't put Davis in danger.

Cadmus Labs was on the trip to Metropolis, sandwiched between a highway and an interstate. She took the interstate, pulled to a stop in a diner parking lot, then took her mountain bike out of the trunk and bicycled through the hike. After fifteen minutes, she could see the lights of the laboratory. She ditched the bike and sneaked up on the fence, pulling her black knit cap down over her face. The outside wasn't well-lit, so hopefully if there were any cameras, they wouldn't pick her up if she stayed mostly still. The human eye was drawn to motion, after all.

She belly-crawled to the fence, pulled out a pair of pliers, and made herself a little hole. Then a wider one when she couldn't fit through the first. Goddamn Ho Hos.

Chloe saw a limousine with LEX III on the license plate. The driver was outside, having a smoke, which meant Lex was probably inside. Chloe crouch-ran to the lab, where she quickly found a backdoor propped-open. Whoever did Lex's security work was not earning his salary.

The inside was modern but a bit dirty, high-tech but neglected. It was obviously meant to support more people than were currently on staff – Lex was probably going for low-profile instead of high security. An off-the-books operation? Chloe filed it away as she snuck through the hallways. There'd only been one car other than Lex's in the parking lot, so unless Luthorcorp was getting really strict on car pooling, there was a chance this was all to support one project, one scientist. Hello Doctor Frankenstein.

She took a few more corners, finding unfurnished rooms and echoing corridors. Then she heard voices trickling to her. Pressing herself against the near wall, she sidestepped her way to the door. Lex's voice slid through the window set in it. Chloe inched her head over to look through it.

"Repeat to me the exposure rate."

"It won't change anything," the other man, a black man in a lab coat, said. Chloe recognized him. Steven Hamilton, Smallville's resident mad scientist. Sensing this was going to be good, Chloe held her tape recorder to the bottom of the door where it could hear their voices more clearly. "Above twenty percent, it's completely binary. Either you are or you aren't."

"But when?" Chloe had never heard Lex sound frazzled before. It wasn't a good sound.

"Probably during the meteor shower, like everyone else."

"Everyone else," Lex snorted. "Everyone else isn't a Luthor." Hamilton evidently started to say something, but Lex cut him off. "Doctor, I am not a meteor _freak_!"

Chloe nearly dropped her tape recorder. Lex Luthor was meteor-infected?

"Do you know what this could mean?" Lex demanded. "My brother hunts people like me! Luthorcorp does experiments!"

"Lex, calm down. There's always the chance that it can be reversed. This is still an-an-an unknown field, we've barely scratched the surface."

Lex ran his hands over his bald head, centering himself. "I'm bringing you on as part of 33.1. Your pay will be tripled. You'll be my eyes and ears on the inside."

"Don't you already have clearance?"

"I can't afford to be involved with that. Not anymore. You'll direct research toward finding a cure."

"I'm sure the victims will be thrilled to hear of your Saul to Paul conversion."

"Don't give me that, Doctor. Where did you think all the data I funneled to you was coming from? Focus on the good you can do. Enlighten your self-interest." Lex was almost ranting, stumbling from sentence to sentence. "I won't live my life as—" He paused, only a half-second. "Circus freak." His voice was closer to Chloe than before. "Doctor, do you think—?"

Chloe ran for it. The door flew open behind her, Lex standing in the doorway, pulling a cell-phone to his ear. A corner turned, a moment later, she heard footfalls going after her.

She pushed through what she thought was a door back outside, found herself in a large dark room, what looked like a lot of hiding spaces. She threw herself into one, the space under a desk. Simple thing, just a thick plank over two file cabinets.

Behind her, the door slammed against the wall. The lights came on with a blinding intensity.

"As you may have noticed, you caught me at a bad time," Lex said, slightly out of breath, but not from the chase. "I haven't brought my security along. I wanted privacy. Joke's on me, huh? Joke's always on me…"

A clatter made Chloe jump. He was kicking things over, throwing them around.

"But that's alright! It's fine, really! If you want something done right, you just have to do it yourself."

Chloe heard a click.

"You know what that was just now? That was the sound of the safety being turned off on a Beretta 9MM. And this…"

She heard a louder click.

"—is the sound of a round being chambered into that Beretta 9MM. Feel like coming out yet?"

Shoes prowled the floor, ratcheting up Chloe's nerve with each little tap.

"It's not going to get any easier the longer you wait. I'm not going to calm down. I am calm. I am very calm. You know, I came to this town to start over? But I guess there really aren't any new beginnings. In the end, your sins always find you out."

His shoes stepped into view, leather, expensive, shined to perfection. Chloe could see her reflection in them. She backed up, crawling out the other side of the desk and then squeezed past an office chair under another desk. Lex's footfalls rang behind her, circling around her old hiding place.

"I'm not really going to hurt you," Lex said quietly.

Chloe backed into something, her wrist feeling something cool and round before it toppled. Shattering glass. She turned around, because even though she should've been running she was still Chloe and she had to know what it was, and she wasn't disappointed.

It was a flower, but not like any flower she'd seen before. It had petals like a sunflower, but the core wasn't that friendly little spot of brown. It was more petals, disappearing down like teeth in a shark's mouth. And it was _moving_, spreading somehow, then curling inward like a sphincter before _spraying her_, something that smelled sweet as a candy shop but made her sneeze, just in case Lex needed to know where she was any easier.

But then, why should she be afraid of Lex? Some pampered rich bitch with a gun? He hopped the desk between the two of them and while he was on his dismount she charged him, flat-out kamikazed into him, knocking him back over the desk so he hit the floor in a tangle, taking the keyboard of the computer with him. Chloe tipped the monitor over on him, then picked up the gun.

Someone was rushing the door, but she fired a few rounds at the doorway, stopping when she heard a squeak and quickly retreating footsteps. Then she sashayed out of there, bicycling back the way she came and getting back into her car. She dropped the gun out the window like a piece of litter, then drove off.

It was too bad she'd stopped her recorder during the chase, but she still had enough to make Lex squirm. Of course, that seemed like a big fat bore at the moment. And she was all tired. She supposed she should get back home and go to sleep.

Then in the morning, she could see about arranging some company.

* * *

Lex wiped at the cut on his forehead with a wet cloth, not even noticing if it was making the pain any better. His mind was too busy screeching from side to side, thinking of the cells on Level 33.1, the cool efficiency with which Clark corralled the Kryps like cattle into a slaughterhouse.

Hamilton didn't point out that his cut had already healed.

"Damage control, doctor," Lex said, soft as velvet. "I'll tell Clark. Maybe he'll side with me over my father. Who knows. Miracles have to happen sometime."

"It might not come to that," Hamilton said. "The intruder was exposed to one of my experiments, the Nicodemus flower."

"I don't recall reading a report on that."

"It was a test of Kryptonite radiation. You can't expect me to experiment on humans."

Lex looked away.

"It's virtually a narcotic. It infuses the victim with an airborne toxin, which lowers inhibitions to the point of a near-pathological recklessness."

"That'll make him easy to find."

"It gets better. If not treated, Nicodemus eventually causes the victim to fall into a coma."

"And after that?"

"Death."

* * *

  


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* * *

  


* * *

Author's notes: This chapter covers 1x17 Reaper.

Whew! Refreshing to get away from the Davis-Eric plot, isn't it? This is a Lex-centric chapter, and one of those puzzle pieces that just slots right into place. Clark has told him his secret, he's got a date with Gina (his henchwoman that was totally in love with him… no, no Tess, the other one. Season seven?), and then the ground falls out from under him. Poor bastard.

With the sequence of him stalking Chloe, I wanted that to be both tense on the obvious sense of Chloe! In danger! No one to protect tiny blonde! And to characterize Lex. He's a little crazed, he's a little amoral, but he's not really evil. Just having something of a panic attack. When he says "I'm really not going to hurt you," he means that. He's just, you know, flailing.

And of course, we get some Chloe/Lois investigating action! Always fun to write, and a nice breath of relief from the serial killing. I really wanted the Chloe/Lois relationship to be stronger than it's shown in canon, since how many times do you see a strong f/f friendship in fic? They're fun to bounce off each other and they work well together.

And speaking of relief, just a little bit of Davis/Chloe. I didn't want their relationship to be all doom and gloom, and since I had a brief moment to show how them so happy together, I wanted to get off the note of Davis being the best boyfriend ever and show Chloe doing something nice. Which, of course, makes a good metaphor for their relationship, her easing this tension he's under. And since this is set around 2002, I get to snark about Buffy/Spike and texting.

One of the things about season one Smallville I just knew I had to fit into the story was _canon sex pollen_. But I didn't want to be gratuitous or irrelevant; I wanted it to actually be part of the plot, not just an excuse for sexy tiem and UST (ahem, _show_). I think you won't be disappointed on that part, and I'll get more into that next time.

Oh, and I got a little into the Naman/Segeeth stuff, since that's going to be important later on. I had to think up an explanation for the Starblade, and for why Lionel is letting Eric run around when all the other Kryps get taken in. And you've gotta love the tension of Lionel meeting Eric. The blue tuxedo with the red bow-tie is a deliberate reference to the Red-Blue Blur. I wanted Eric to basically be a parody of Clark's character in later seasons. Totally self-righteous, complete douche, but utterly without Clark's redeeming characteristics.

I'm not saying this has anything to do with the next installment, but when I saw the nominations for the Onion Awards, I couldn't help but regret that the chapter with the sex scene hadn't been posted yet, because I think that definitely would've been a contender for best porn.


	16. Chapter 16

Davis fell in behind Pete as he walked to his next class, not able to avoid casting a glance at Eric Summers and his troupe of fawning admirers. Eric was lifting up a blonde with one hand and appearing to enjoy himself immensely. Davis pressed his lips into a thin line and deliberately looked at Pete.

"Hey, have you seen Chloe?"

"Nah, she was AWOL at Geometry."

"I'm gonna call her. Next time you see Miss Lane, you mind asking her if she knows what's up with her cousin?"

"Will do." Then Pete broke off to watch Eric juggle jocks.

Davis shook his head as he dialed Chloe's number. She picked up on the fourth ring, said "Yeah?" in a voice still heavy with sleep.

"Hey, I didn't see you at language arts, so now I'm just checking to see if you're alright… which you obviously are…"

"Yeah, I just felt like sleeping in."

"Oh. Sorry to wake you."

"No, it's good that we're both up. I'd better get to class."

"Yeah, probably. Never know when there's gonna be a pop quiz."

"Mmm-hmm. What're you wearing?"

* * *

Davis didn't give the matter any more thought until after gym class. He knew Chloe's weird phone sex operator thing was probably more attributable to her occasionally crooked sense of humor than a sudden bout of nymphomania. At least, he thought so until she walked into the boys' locker room.

It wasn't so much that she was wearing a short skirt and a floral-print tank top that was at least one size too small. It was that no one else was wearing much of anything.

"Mmm. Shower-fresh," Chloe said as she swaggered her way down the rows of lockers, running a finger over the triceps of a particularly beefy football player before she reached Davis.

"Chloe, what are you doing here?" Davis asked, keeping a very firm grip on his towel.

"I'm a reporter. It's my job to find out what's kept under wraps." With surprising speed, Chloe jerked the front of his towel forward, just enough for her to look down it. "Eep. No wonder you believe in God."

Davis snatched his towel back against his waist. "Chloe, you really have to get out of here before you get in trouble."

"Who knows, maybe some trouble will get into me." She swiped her hand over his bare chest, picking at a dried bit of soap. "You missed a spot. See you later, Davis. Not too much later."

She left to a chorus of catcalls and similar sentiments from those who couldn't whistle, making the best of what small hips she had. Davis changed quickly and went after her, only having to stop a few times to remember such things as his underwear going on before his pants and that he didn't wear a medallion.

She was long gone by the time he made it out, his socks a little slimy and his hair still damp, so he circled around to the newspaper office where he found her literally in the arms of another man. And he suddenly understood why the expression stuck, because seeing someone else's arms looped around her like they owned, like someone else was at all _entitled_ to her, made him want to fill the cold dark space which the Red had departed, fill it with boiling-hot rage.

The boy, whoever he was, looked up from his tonsil-dampening to see Davis standing there, head down like a bull about to charge, shoulders heaving, and quickly deduced he had stumbled upon a lovers' spat.

"You, bricks, hit," Davis growled, and the boy ran like a bat out of hell. "Who was that?"

"Who cares? Saw him in the hallway, asked him how he felt about hardcore journalism." She put on a new layer of lipstick and popped her lips. "Course, I could've asked you if you hadn't taken your sweet time getting here."

"I was getting dressed," Davis said, rolling the miniscule strap of Chloe's top between his fingers.

Chloe sidestepped, letting his hooked fingers drag the strap off her shoulder. "Waste of time, if you ask me." Now behind him, she kicked the door shut with her heel.

He blinked. She was still there, the thin tank top still on, with one strap crumpled down her arm and the other just waiting to be plucked, like an errant hair you just wanted to brush away. "You're acting weird," he said.

"Define weird." She advanced on him. "This town is pretty weird, if you stop to think about it. You're pretty weird. I'm pretty weird. We're pretty weird." She flicked the last shoulder strap just a little off, so that her tank top was clinging to her instead of hanging off her. "I'd like us to be…"

"Normal?"

"Right. Proper." Her arms paused on the sides of his neck, like she was going to wring it, before joining behind his head. "Is it weirder to want something you can't have or pretend you don't want something you need?"

"There are—" His lips felt very dry. He wanted to lick them, but the way she was looking at him, it would've been like waving a red cape. "I can't."

"It feels like you can," Chloe grinned as her thigh rubbed against his groin. "C'mon, Davis. How about just a quick taste?"

She hopped up, her legs wrapping around his waist, her weight pushing him down on a desk. If he hadn't braced himself with an arm, Davis would've gotten a three-ring binder in a very uncomfortable place.

"You don't know…" he started.

He was drawn to the lines of her neck as she leaned back, almost as if she were offering herself to him. Even more than her breasts, he couldn't help considering how soft it was, how delicate. He pressed his face to it, close enough to smell her under the perfume she was wearing. It was a good perfume. She was better.

"What I want from you…" His teeth grinded against each other. "How you make me feel…"

"Tell me." Somehow sensing his desire, she took firm hold of his head and pulled it against her, moving him over her skin and cleavage and throat until he was at the other side of her neck, his breath hitting her flesh in hot bursts of air like steam off a boiler. "Tell me everything."

"Whoa, looks like you two got here just in time for assembly," Pete said.

Davis's eyes snapped open. He pulled himself away from Chloe, her scent, and dropped her on a desk. "Pete, this is…"

"It's cool, doing a little homework on sex ed, but you'd better freeze it before Principle Kwan finds you. He is not happy about your little free love thing in the locker room."

Chloe jutted out her bottom lip as she pulled up her shoulder straps. "Knew we should've met up under the bleachers."

"Alright, I'll stall him, Chloe, you get home, get some sleep—alone!" He said before she could contradict him.

"Right. I've got a story to write anyway. Lex Luthor and his dirty little secrets. Helluva scoop. Wish I could print it right here… right _now_." Chloe paused, her lips nearly brushing Davis's. "But for some reason the Torch doesn't go to press on weekends."

"Chloe, no one goes to school on weekends," Pete said.

"That's right, they're all..." Chloe shouldered past Davis, "sleeping in."

* * *

Davis wasn't too worried about Chloe doing anymore "investigative reporting". He trusted her, and he guessed that all she was doing was some really drastic means of getting his attention (probably Justin's death having an impact on her too, finally). Still, as soon as he got home from school he gave her a call.

"This is my deadline, Davis!" She held the phone to an electric fan. "That is it rushing by!"

After that, he called Lois, but first he had a talk with his dad about how he had known Mom was the one. It hadn't helped much, given how maddeningly vague he had to be about the whole business (and not just sex, but the Red and poor dead Justin), but at least it gave him a retort to his constant worry that things would implode the moment he disturbed the hard-won equilibrium he'd reached with Chloe.

The seventh time he called, Lois didn't even say hello, just "she's in the shower, she'd done with her article, I'll tell her you want to see her."

"I don't," Davis had started to say, but before he could finish Lois had hung up.

* * *

"Hey, Lois, you mind if I borrow this?" Chloe said, wearing a shower turban and not much else. She was holding Lois's old uniform in front of her.

Lois looked at it. "I don't think it'll fit."

"I'm going to let it in some before I head out."

"And where are we headed?"

"Kent farm. I need to get a job application to Davis, there's a position I have that needs filling."

Lois blinked. "Chloe, was that a double entendre?"

"Yeah. You wanna come along?" Chloe held the uniform over Lois's body like she was gauging if it would still fit. "Every guy dreams of two girls at once… and how does the saying go? Incest is best?"

"Whoa," Lois said, jerking back from Chloe. "When you loosen up, you really loosen up."

"It's in the blood. And you mind if I borrow Clark later? Maybe Davis is hungry for a Chloe sandwich."

"…are you drunk?"

"You don't have to decide right away. I'm sure Davis will be just enough to handle for tonight. Article's saved on the D: drive, I'd appreciate it if you did the fact-checking."

"Sure thing," Lois said as Chloe disappeared upstairs with the uniform in one hand and a sewing kit in the other. "Hey, what makes you think Davis isn't going to say no?"

"Because I'm not taking no for an answer."

* * *

That evening, Lois had called _him_ to say Chloe would be a little late ("Sewing machine's acting up, don't ask, I just said don't ask, but she's on her way. You know how to practice safe sex, right?").

(Then she'd called him again to say "You have condoms, right? I am not having you knocking up my cuz with your farmboy spooge.")

Davis glanced at the condoms, partially concealed under a loose floorboard. He was going to try to gently dissuade Chloe from her sudden mating drive (honest), but it was good to be prepared just in case Chloe… didn't want to be dissuaded.

By the time Chloe got to the barn, Davis was half-asleep. It was midnight, and the late shows he was watching to stay awake had devolved into Andy Rooney hawking some kind of snack bar.

"Your parents are asleep," Chloe said, stepping in front of the TV. She wore a trenchcoat that was probably very chic in flasher circles; in fact he thought he recognized it from the Halloween she'd dressed as Samantha Spade. "They're letting you be up at twelve with a girl. They must really trust you."

"I try to give them reason to," Davis yawned.

"I wonder if they'd be so trusting if they knew I was fucking their baby boy." Chloe dropped the trenchcoat.

Davis's eyes feasted. They couldn't stop anywhere. His gaze moved from her breasts, suddenly so much more _there_ somehow, maybe because of the tightness of her blouse, to her narrow waist to her belly button, exposed along with the rest of her midriff. His stare was briefly interrupted by her skirt, but it was so short it might as well not have been there. He followed her smooth legs down to a pair of incongruous tennis shoes.

She spun around, making it worse. Her ass was only just concealed by the hem of her abbreviated skirt. It was a Smallville Crows cheerleading uniform. Brief shorts, short skirt, bared midriff, and a tight vest. Too tight to ever fly on the field. He could see her nipples, flush against the cloth.

"It's Lois's," Chloe said, her indolent slide onto his bed excitingly conflicting with the energetic red uniform. "Fits pretty good, don't you think?"

"Chloe, what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing. Hence my dilemma." She threw off his bedsheet. He'd taken off his shoes and socks but nothing else. He was acutely aware of how his jeans rubbed against his skin as her hands fell on his legs, higher and higher on his body. She was crawling over him, finally kneeling over his thighs as she undid his belt.

Davis could only grit his teeth and wonder if this would break him. If he'd mind being broken.

"Chloe, I like you a lot, but this…"

"What, Davis?" She leaned over him, one hand by his head, supporting her, the other working his pants down. "Give me one good reason I can't have this."

"I don't want you to get hurt." He was hard and ready and she was so lovely and he was so busy trying to control himself, not the part of himself that wanted to love her but the part of himself that wanted _more_ from her, that he couldn't completely ignore the little voice that wondered if it was even worth controlling himself.

She hadn't been joking the last time she spoke and she was dead serious now. "Will I get hurt if we do this?"

"I don't know. Maybe. It's a risk."

"How big a risk?"

It was so hard to concentrate with her hand poised just over his groin. Part of him was screaming to just _go_ with it and with all the screaming he couldn't tell which parts were him anymore and which parts were _imposed_ on him. Maybe Chloe could decide. He hated himself for even thinking of putting that burden on her.

"How much of a risk?" she repeated. "If you think I can't choose this unless I know the risks, then how can you deny it to me without letting me know the risks?"

He fell flat on his bed, staring up into the darkness of the rafters. "There's a part of me… you're going to think this sounds crazy."

"Try me."

"There's a part of me that's completely… instinct. It makes me feel very protective of you. I don't think I could keep you safe if I didn't hold back."

"So go slow." She kissed him, hands now tugging at his shirt. "Stay in control." She shimmied out of her blouse, letting him see the bubble-gum pink of her nipples as Davis reared up, bracing himself against the headboard. "If you can."

Davis reached down, forcing his fist to spread open before it met her thigh. He moved up until her skirt was covering the back of his hand.

"It's okay," Chloe said, her lips red, almost bruised. "Do it."

He pulled on her panties until the hip strap broke, felt the warmth between her legs. Chloe tilted her head against his chest, breathing out as if in relief, hands pursed on his shoulders to hold her up.

"Keep going," she breathed.

* * *

He was gentle with her. More than gentle, skittish, afraid, like his touch might cut into her or shatter her if he moved too fast. It was good, of course it was good, but it wasn't _him_. The edges were pared down, the colors were muted… the flavor she'd tasted was gone.

Chloe wanted more. And in this strange dream-state, in this adrenaline high that wouldn't leave her, she could insist on more instead of settling for just short of what she wanted. She could have it all.

She only had to kiss him once, and just long enough for him to feel this was more than affection, more than pleasure, and then she felt him begin to respond. His entire body seemed to snake against her, thrumming with power. They melted down side by side on the bed, Davis's arm at an awkward angle between her legs, now making vaguely wet sounds when it invaded her. Chloe bit her lip and fumbled with his boxers until she had them down low enough for him to kick them off.

It was like his mouth was a black hole, waiting to consume all of her, accepting whatever she had to give like it was _nothing_ compared to his passion. One hand was on her hip, digging in so hard it was actually painful, and the other was pistoning inside her, making her moan and cry out and pant. Just more for him to swallow up as his mouth burnt against hers.

His hand came up to brush the hair out of her face, cup her chin, and even though he was still being so hatefully gentle with her, it was still as intense as the fingernails had been as they cut into her thigh. "You're a virgin, right?"

Chloe grinned. "For now."

"So it'll hurt," Davis said, voice flooding with the old doubts.

She rolled onto her back and slowly pulled her skirt up until it was lying across her waist. "Hurt me."

He moved over her, one leg sweeping over hers and then settling onto the mattress on the other side of her with a portentous squeal of bedsprings. His tongue dragged over her neck, her ear. All she could think about was biology class, phrases like alpha male and prospective mate. Then his tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat, the valley between her breasts and lower, over her stomach, into her belly button.

Chloe stopped him as his chin brushed over her skirt, still absurdly hung around her waist like a tutu. "What are you doing?"

"I, uh…" Davis's brow furrowed as he tried to settle on a way to say it. "Cunnilingus?"

"That's not what I want," Chloe said, urging him back up with a welcoming smile. She felt so free, ready and waiting for whatever he had to give her. "C'mon, Davis. You know as long as you're giving into temptation, you might as well go _all_ the way and be _completely_ satisfied. So how do you want to play this?"

Davis closed his eyes, then buried his face into the side of her neck like he couldn't bear to face her. "See that desk over there?" he whispered into her ear. Chloe looked over and saw a writing desk, populated by some notebooks, a row of novels, and pen and paper. "I want to bend you over that desk and _do things_ to you," he said, unable to stop a growl from coarsening his voice.

"Like what kind of things?" Chloe asked, slipping out from under him, playfully backing to the desk.

Davis got out of bed, moving after her. Chloe felt her heart rattle her ribcage as she saw him naked, hard, weirdly inhuman with the moonlight hitting him. Like he wasn't part of her world at all. "I want to… mark you."

"With your teeth, I suppose?" Chloe said, letting him catch up to her, taking his outstretched hand and digging her teeth into his wrist. His sigh as she dragged at his flesh sounded deafening in the empty night.

"Yes."

Her fingernails scratched over his chest, his abs, his groin. "And with your fingernails?"

"Yes."

Chloe swept everything off the desk with an orgasmic clatter. "Sounds fun." She got up, shimmied out of her skirt, and bent over the desk. Then she laid back, splaying herself over it. "Whatever you need from me, take it. Take it."

He took hold of her by the shoulders, his hands damp and shaking now, and slowly turned her over. Then, more firmly, less in control, he pushed her down against the desk. Her nipples thrummed as they rubbed against the pitted wood of the desk, stained and frayed from years of use.

She felt his fingernails flaying her back, carving scarlet lines down the curve of her spine and making her whimper. When he reached her buttocks, his hands rubbing down their curve, then between her legs, she reared up. A hand was instantly at her throat, the back of it, forcing her head down. The side of her face met the wood and stayed there. His cock brushed against the back of her thigh as he moved in.

"God, you smell good." His voice made her jump with how close it was, stirring her hair with its passage. He spread her legs, fingers still trembling with barely restrained force, then again tore his fingernails down her flank. She cried out as welts rose up and the hand came away from her neck, now moving her hair to one side. "Teeth now," he warned, and she braced herself.

They sunk into her exposed neck, slowly, like he was biting down on a strawberry—savoring it. She writhed; she'd never felt anything like this before. It wasn't a hickey and it wasn't a love bite, but a prolonged… _branding_. Like he wouldn't stop until blood welled up.

Chloe reached back and was able to feel the muscles of his back, corded with tension layered upon tension, _shaking_ now as he broke the skin. Blood trickled down over her collarbone and onto her breast, the desk. His cock slid over her ass, sticky and scalding-hot. Now he forced her head back, to turn, and kissed her, sharing the iron taste of her blood. He let her up, his hands now between them as he guided his cock inside her.

"_Harder_," she groaned.

* * *

Davis lost it. It was like the Red, only the thought of fighting its rise never even occurred to him. Like an animal he fell upon her, burying his face between her shoulder blades as he thrust into her. Her hands white-knuckled the edges of the desk and her mouth hung open, a formless noise of appreciation occasionally escaping, but he didn't notice, couldn't focus, his world had tightened to the feel of Chloe under him. It expanded in gasping increments, letting him feel the smallest of details. The sweat trickling between the small of his back and the smell of Chloe's arousal, thick as anything, and the sound of her teeth gnashing as she bit down on her forearm to keep from screaming.

Davis didn't know how long he was lost in Chloe, but she did. She gasped and heaved and slammed herself back against him, finally felt him stiffen against her and realized he was going to come inside her. His hands were on her ass, her hips, clenched tightly enough to make her find vivid red marks on her flesh the next time she showered, and she begged for more, for him, until her mouth was wide open and she was making a noise, a hysterical, desperate _noise_, and Davis returned to himself, his fingers tangled in her hair and his woman cooing as she sagged against the desk. Blinking, so relaxed it felt like his body was shutting down, he stepped away from her and out of her.

Chloe stirred to her feet, her hair sticking up wildly, parts of her face still shining with wetness. Her breasts heaved when she breathed, deep lungfuls of relief and contentment.

"Tell me you liked that," Davis said uncertainly.

Cupping the back of his neck so she could force him to bend down and present his mouth, she showed him how much she liked it.

* * *

"Move over, I wanna get my snuggle on," Chloe said after they had broken their long embrace and wandered to the bed, a little excited and a little embarrassed and mainly relieved that whatever they had tried to accomplish or prove, it had worked. She curled up against him and pulled the covers over them, finally bare skin against bare skin, feeling him cool down.

"Your heart's going a mile-a-minute…" Chloe observed, still rubbing the sweat-slick plains of his chest with a lazy interest. She sat up, working a kink out of her neck. "Not bad, Kent. I wouldn't want it to be like that all the time, but every now and then… on special occasions… Goddamn, it felt like I was a ragdoll!" she murmured excitedly.

Davis wiped his mouth with the back of his fingers. His knuckles came away red. "I didn't scare you?"

Giving up the exploration of his chest to sag against him, arms around his neck, she said "I know you'd never hurt me."

* * *

Davis woke up reaching for Chloe. She wasn't there. He swung out of bed, feet coming down by small specks of red. Rose petals? He looked closer. Blood.

Grabbing a two by four, he followed the trail, breath puffing out maddened ghosts. No. No, no, no! He went down the stairs, following bloodstains that grew to the size of handprints, like someone was beating at the floor, trying to get out.

He found Chloe under the hayloft, torso hung like a bale of hay. Her legs were lost in a pool of red. He vomited, the sight of her blood-darkened hair covering her breasts searing into his mind.

When he looked up, Eric stood over him, his blue suit stained with blood. A slender dagger hung from his hand. "What did you think would happen?"

A rooster crowed and Davis jerked up, barely recognizing his own body in the glaze of sweat and the feverish heartbeat. He reached out and touched Chloe, lying next to him, barely warmed by the dawning sun.

"I think I have a few issues." He nudged Chloe. "Wake up, we need to get dressed. I think I can convince Ma and Pa that we were up all night studying, since we're us, but it'd probably help if we had pants on."

Chloe didn't budge. Davis gave her a harder tap. "C'mon, it's Saturday. You can nap at home." Chloe wasn't moving. Davis pinched her as hard as he could. Her eyes wouldn't open.

Davis made a B-line for his car keys.

* * *

* * *

Author's notes: This chapter covers 1x18 Drone.

So, knowing that the first season had a sex pollen episode, I had to use that, but _how_? I didn't want it to be just random porn, otherwise I'd just write in a Davis/Chloe/Lois threesome, or some hot stepbrother action between Clark and Lex. With the way the story came together, it became pretty obvious that I could use the sex pollen to propel Davis and Chloe into a sexual relationship, while still holding enough in reserve to show they weren't hunky-dory.

Which brings us to the rough, animalistic sex they had. Yeah, speaking of plot moving forward, part of the point of this scene (besides, you know, SEX UP TINY BLONDE) was that Chloe is accepting Davis's rough edges and for that to work, there has to be some kinky shit for her to accept. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. And of course, I know if you've gotten this far, you're dirty enough to fall for the "I have DIRTYBADWRONG urges for you, but I love you too much to do indulge my INESCAPIBLE BIOLOGICAL DESIRES. What's that, you want me to? Okay, I'll fuck your brains out, but only if we can cuddle afterward." Yes, we all know it's wrong, but better you get your fix from me than Twilight. It's okay to be kind of excited by Rutting!Davis. Fanboys get catgirls, you're entitled to Doomsday. Jesus still loves you.

But basically, if I recall from the comics right, Doomsday is an amalgam of several different animals designed to create the perfect killing machine (I knew it was a bad idea to broadcast the Sci-Fi Channel into space), so it makes a certain sense that there's this bestial side of him. I've heard that's been overplayed some with Wolverine and with all the vampires and werewolves running around fandom, but screw it, it's new for me. So I decided as long as I'm writing this crazy bestial scene, I might as well indulge all the clichés and make it the best crazy bestial scene I could. There was actually a list of porn tropes I looked at that had things like fingernails and biting and forcing the head down on it, so someone thinks it's hot. Hopefully you do too, now that I've warped your brain.

Of course, get Chloe high on sex pollen and she'll get her article done before she makes sexy tiem (priorities, Chloe, priorities). Something else to move the plot forward. What, you thought I doused Chloe with sex pollen just to get her _laid?_ How uncouth.

And the reference in the nightmare is pretty easy to spot. Same parallel as before. Davis is hanging on to this delusion that he can control Eric because the alternative is letting go of Chloe. And another red-blue blur reference, for those keeping track

For the characterization of Chloe on sex pollen, I did borrow from the season two episode where Chloe got hit with an entirely separate kind of sex pollen plot device. Although there, the sex/journalism quip was just "investigative reporting," and I like "hardcore journalism" better. This is because exposure to Davis's abs makes you wittier. It even worked on the writers. Why do you think season eight was kinda quality for a while? Because Davis kept taking his shirt off. Tim Kring, hire Sam Witwer to join the cast of Heroes as a hero with the power of not needing a shirt, no matter how hot or cold it is. Your storytelling abilities will skyrocket.

That was a long and pointless digression. I can't believe I have this much to say about a chapter where Chloe gets high and fucks Davis. The cheerleading outfit… I'll admit, that was gratuitous. And of course, when Chloe is high on sex pollen, she has a certain attraction for Clark (or at least Clark sandwiches). That concludes the characterization for this chapter, enjoy the porn.

Next time, Lex. I realize most weeks you get Lex, but Lex is going to be at his most HBIC here. He knows it's going to take a lot to top Rutting!Davis, but he's up to the challenge!


	17. Chapter 17

Five minutes after the half-dressed boy had burst into Smallville General with a naked girl wrapped in bedsheets and screamed for help, Chloe Sullivan was being examined by the ER staff. Davis was on the phone to Lex's private number. "I woke up, she didn't. What if it was something in me, Lex, what if it was a virus?"

"I find it notoriously difficult to catch an STD while saying prayers and taking vitamins. I'll have my personal doctor examine her. In the meantime, you get dressed and don't answer any questions until I get there."

"You're coming down here?"

"What kind of friend would I be if I weren't there for you in your hour of need?"

* * *

Although it went against every fiber of his being, Davis walked out of the waiting room and went to the nearest clothing store, where he bought the first shirt that fit him and ran back. By the time he'd gotten there, so had Lex.

"I had a talk with the residents about doctor-patient confidentiality. Nothing embarrassing will come to light about Chloe, I assure you."

"Is she gonna be okay?"

Lex gestured for Davis to sit, then took a seat across from him. "The hospital has no idea what's wrong with her, but when Dr. Hamilton examined her he found symptoms identical to those caused by one of my company's experiments. A classified experiment."

Davis had had his head in his hands. Now he looked up.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Davis?"

"I told you _everything_ I know. You really think I would hold back with Chloe's life on the line?"

"I don't know." Lex met Davis's stare inch for inch. "Sometimes it's like I hardly know you."

A doctor came up to them, breaking the tension with four simple words: "Miss Sullivan is awake."

Davis bolted up to make for Chloe's room, but Lex grabbed his hand. "As you can see, we have a cure for the Nicodemus toxin. Give Chloe my love."

Davis waited until Lex had let go of his hand to walk away.

"And just so you know, the chief symptom of Nicodemus is a total loss of inhibitions. But she's back to normal now."

* * *

The nurses had put Chloe in a hospital gown, for which Davis was eternally grateful. He walked in to find Chloe already sitting on the side of her bed, getting ready to walk. She took one look at him and burst into laughter.

Davis looked down. He was wearing a Menudo T-shirt. "Only thing they had in my size."

"Who knows. Nostalgia is big nowadays. Maybe it'll come back in fashion."

Davis sat down next to her, facing away from her before he forced himself to look into her eyes. "How much do you remember about last night?"

"After the sex, you mean?"

Davis nodded, looked straight ahead. "That answers that. Listen, Lex told me you were exposed to an experiment of his. Nicodemus?"

"No, no… wait, the flower?"

"I guess so. He said it—" Davis stood up, didn't turn around, "removes inhibitions. Like a roofie."

"And you think that's why we had sex," Chloe realized, rubbing the bandage on her neck. Under it was a bite mark.

"Can you think of a better reason?"

Standing up, Chloe turned Davis around. "Because I love you, and you love me."

"Those things are not what people in love do!"

"Obviously, they are. I knew what I was doing, I did it, and I enjoyed it. The only thing I'm ashamed of is that it took some drug to make me admit what I wanted." Chloe sat back down, holding her head. "Whoa, dizzy. Not my best idea ever." She looked up at him. "I'm not some fair maiden. I have wants and desires and fantasies, just like you. I'm not ashamed of it. Maybe you should stop being ashamed for me."

"You wanted me to do… _that_ to you?"

"I wanted _you_."

"So…" Davis craned his head to the side after a long moment. "We're good."

Chloe smiled. "Yeah. We're so good."

The door swung open with the metallic sound of a public building. Gabe Sullivan stood in the doorway. "Hi Chloe. How're you feeling?"

* * *

Chloe was a better liar than Davis gave her credit for. She spun a story about a Red Eyes sighting at the Kent farm, how she'd fallen asleep halfway through and Davis had brought her inside. When the Kents arrived, Davis repeated the story to them, careful not to embellish. He noted that Chloe shied away from explaining her illness.

While Martha talked with Chloe and Gabe filled out paperwork, Davis slipped out to get them all coffee. When he came back, Gabe was waiting outside his daughter's hospital room.

"Davis, I'm not going to be one of those sitcom overprotective dads who'll make their little girl wear a purity ring. It's obvious you care for Chloe a lot. But I have a shotgun and I work with fertilizer. Don't fuck with me."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"So what was it really?" Lois asked, once she'd gotten Davis alone.

"She was exposed to a Luthorcorp experiment," Davis said as gently as he could. "Lex gave her the cure," he added.

Lois gritted her teeth. "Son of a bitch…"

Davis grabbed her upper arms, as if to stop her from running off and punching Lex Luthor out. "Hold it right there. We don't know what happened. Let's hear it from Chloe before we go off half-cocked."

"Isn't it obvious? This was a warning shot." Lois ripped free of him, arms crossing into tight lines, voice raised as she stomped down the hall. "He makes her sick, then he cures her. Well, I won't be intimidated by this bullshit!" When she turned around, Davis was right there, his eyes as fiery as hers. "I'm dropping the bomb on the Luthors."

Davis couldn't seem to decide whether to encourage her or warn her off, so he simply said "You're dating a Luthor."

"Yeah?" The fire that'd been burning in Lois's belly guttered. She looked down, planting her hands on her hips, and when she spoke her voice was so low it might've been Chloe's. "Maybe I shouldn't be."

* * *

"Do you believe him?" Gina asked.

Lex played the tape again, watched Bob Rickman die again. "Belief requires trust. Why should I trust anyone?"

"What about Chloe? What we do something about her?"

Lex paused the tape. Watched the fear in Rickman's eyes. "Nothing. Davis loves her."

He pressed play again. Watched Davis's face as he killed.

"If he wants to play the hero, let him."

* * *

Lex had thought of everything. When it came time for the hospital to return the patient's clothes, Lex had already bought the clothes that she had 'been brought in wearing.' Chloe colored a little when she realized that although the outerwear was off-the-rack Sears, the underwear was top-of-the-line French lingerie. She didn't tell Davis, though. There were better ways for him to find out.

And pretending to be charmed by Lex would make squashing him a lot more satisfying.

"You two make a cute couple," Gabe said as she and Davis walked out of the hospital, arm in arm.

"I know," Chloe said.

* * *

"In here?" Eric asked the Red.

He waited.

Went inside the Talon. Sia's "Buttons" was playing on the stereo, Lana singing along as she mopped up. Eric watched her. The Red watched her.

She saw him. Jerked back, face tightening for an instant. "Oh, you scared me. I didn't see you come in. Eric, right?"

"That's right." He shut the door behind him, walked down off the landing. "But what's in a name, huh?" He stared into her. "A rose by any other name…"

"Aww, you're too kind."

"I was."

She took a chair off a table and set it down for him. "Sit down, I'll get you a latte. First one's always on the house."

Eric rested his hands on the chair's back. "As I said, I _was_ too kind. But then I learned that nice guys finish last. If you see something you want, you can't wait for someone to give it to you. You have to take it." He took off his glasses. "Like you did, Tina."

She dropped the coffee cup she'd been filling for Eric. "That's not my name."

"It was. Until you killed Lana. And stole her life. See, I've got a new best friend, and he told me all about what you did, yes he did, yes he did. The Red, it whispers things to me." Eric walked past the chair she'd set out. "You killed your mother."

Lana backed up. "It was an accident! And Lana, you have no idea how much I regret that. I wasn't thinking straight, my mother had just died, and I panicked. I've spent every day since then praying for forgiveness and trying to atone for what I did."

"Not good enough." He hopped the counter like an animal. "There's no forgiveness for people like you. No second chances. No redemption."

Tina backed into the espresso machine, reverting to her natural form. "Please, don't kill me! I'll go to the police, I'll tell them everything! I have been… so awesome! I've been a great friend, a great girlfriend, ask anyone, they'll tell you Lana Lang is the nicest girl in school! I've _changed_!"

"You have?" Eric said whimsically. "Then can you change again? Do you take requests?"

"I could… I can be anyone."

"Do you know Holly?"

She did.

Eric ran a hand over her cheek, _Holly's_ cheek. "Amazing. _Just_ like I imagined." He took his hand away. "Say you love me."

"I love you."

He walked around her, eyeing her from every angle like a prize filly. "Say you want me."

"I want you." Her voice didn't tremble as his hand reached under her skirt.

"You look like her. And you sound like her." Eric watched how Holly's face contorted under his fingers. He'd always wondered how it would look… "Now let's see if you pass the taste test."

* * *

  


* * *

  


* * *

  


* * *

Author's notes: This chapter covers 1x19 Crush.

Here, I wanted Lex to go a little dark. He's taking a big step toward being the manipulative Lex Luthor we all know and love, but there's an undercurrent of charity there too. He is letting Chloe get away with stealing from him because Davis cares for her, but that also furthers his own purposes. Every action he takes here is tweaking someone, playing them to find out what their reaction will be.

Aside from that, there's this balance between things getting sorted out and spiraling out of control. Chloe and Davis are finally dealing with their issues in a healthy way and Davis has sorta stopped seeing Chloe as a partner who he needs to protect and more as an equal.

Obviously, the big deal here is Eric raping Tina, and the reveal that Lana has been Tina ever since the episode where Tina debuted. Go back, reread, I won't stop you. Now obviously rape is a plot device that gets used too often, and usually inappropriately or gratuitously, but here I think it was necessary and since it's my author's notes, I'll go into that.

The idea for Eric Summers is that, a lot of the time, you give a geek character superpowers and he'll turn into a hero. Here the fanboy turns into a supervillain, and really indulges all the misogyny and assholishness you might find in the nastier fanboys, the "Cat Piss Men" as someone dubbed them. I mean, in comic book fanfics, you can go to AFF or somewhere and find a lot of fics about Wonder Woman getting raped and similar pleasantries. So that's the side of fanboys that Eric Summers represents, and I don't think that story would ring true if I didn't Go There.

Plus, it's an important contrast with Davis that Davis is a very reluctant hero, he's very agonized and very regretful when he has to kill, while Eric is eager to play the hero and then to justify anything he does as heroic. So just to head off anyone asking why Davis can be redeemed and Eric can't, well, Eric's a raping asshole. I mean, if this story were longer, there'd be a scene where he kicked a dog. Bring on the comeuppance.

Secondly, this means Lana Lang died way back in X-Ray, actually by being buried alive as per the episode. Normally I'd say that's a bit harsh, but Smallville did do an episode where they stated canonically that Lana would be remembered as a hero on par with Superman and that Chloe would be completely forgotten by history. So fuck her.

And of course Tina gets a somewhat sympathetic portrayal. It's easy to forget that a lot of these meteor freaks are just high school students, not evil incarnate, and Tina is a girl who's lost her mother, dealt with it badly, and then repented for it. Obviously, she's not a saint, she hasn't turned herself in, but it makes what Eric does all the more horrible.

Next week, Chloe learns something she didn't know before.


	18. Chapter 18

Things were so easy after Chloe got out of the hospital. All traces of guilt fled Davis when he saw how Chloe smiled at him, without an inkling of accusation or regret. It was like they'd walked out of a minefield and onto safe ground, comfortable and well-worn. They hadn't slept together since the night at the bar, but when he touched her, his hands didn't stop at her waist or bra and she didn't want them to.

On Sunday they went to see Spider-Man, Davis in his Sunday suit, jacket still in the car, collar popping up without a tie. Chloe giggled when she smoothed it down, like it was a running joke. They sat next to each other in the back-row, a bucket of popcorn on his lap and a cup of soda between them, the big plastic kind that cost more but came with as many refills as you liked. Sometimes Davis would put his hand under Chloe's skirt, just squeezing her upper thigh in casual intimacy, and sometimes Chloe would put her foot up on Davis's lap and let him rub it.

Only once did he think of the Red. Someone in the front row laughed with the braying superiority of Eric and it made Davis tense up, flashing on Justin's mangled body. No, that wasn't his problem anymore, that wasn't even _a_ problem. He could handle Eric, he could steer him back on course. He had to. What else could he do about it?

It wasn't like he had been a hundred percent sure about Justin. Maybe Gaines would've gone bad. Maybe Chloe would've gotten hurt. He didn't know. He couldn't know.

Chloe picked his arm up and looped it over her shoulders, throwing in a fake yawn as she snuggled closer to him. Davis smiled and ran a hand through her hair. This was nice. This was worth it.

After the movie they filed out, losing themselves in the excited murmur of the crowd. Chloe leaned under Davis's right arm, her hand in his left pocket. "Enjoy the show?"

"It was a little clichéd, don't you think?"

"Clichéd? He didn't get the girl at the end. How is that clichéd?"

Davis guided them out one of the backdoors, avoiding the log-jam by the front doors. "If they really didn't want to be clichéd, her name would have been Gwen Stacy and she would've died at the end."

Chloe knuckled him lightly in the kidney. "That's for being a nerd who supports sexist storytelling tropes."

"Keep doing that, makes me feel invincible." Davis squeezed Chloe tighter to his side as they walked past the dumpster that was the alley's only other occupant. "I don't know, it just seemed to do everything you'd expect to see in a superhero story. He got his powers, he used them to get back at his tormentors, he got the girl, he fought the bad guy… anyone could've come up with that story. And they probably would've had a better Green Goblin costume."

"Well, I had a good time."

"Then that makes it all worth it. That, and the M&Ms I snuck in."

They pricked his ears in a way he could never explain. Five of them, coming from behind. Davis automatically shifted himself between them and Chloe. They were big guys, all of them, the smallest about 5'9. Leathers, muscles, tats. One of them had a nose ring like a pig.

"Nice night for a walk," one of them said, the one in tattered jeans.

"Definitely," Davis said, slowly backing up, covering Chloe as she picked up on his cue and stayed behind him.

"Raises thoughts of… enterprise, in a young go-getter's soul."

Davis took out his wallet, slowly. Pulled a stack of tens from the billfold, calmly dropped it on the ground. Kept backing up. "All I got."

"Not everything you got," another one said, this one in an Army jacket full of brass chains. He looked past Davis at Chloe. Gave her a smile full of rotten teeth.

Someone with the sleeves torn off his shirt took out a rattling length of chain and rotated it with a heavy whistling sound. _Whiss, whiss, whiss…_

Chloe took out her taser. Davis didn't dare glance back, but he was pretty sure the mouth of the alley was forty yards away. Or was it fifty? If they just kept backing up, if they just got close enough to the street…

But then, it was pretty dark, and he hadn't seen a headlight sweep by in a while. Smallville always did roll its sidewalks up when American Idol came on. The gang members were bathed in shadow, making it hard to keep them straight. Like they were just silhouettes.

"We don't want any trouble," Davis said, which was what he'd heard in an old TV show.

"Won't be any trouble. For us. Or you, if you step aside."

"Not happening," Davis said, still very calm. His hands didn't shake.

"Still no trouble," the leader said as his wingman flipped out a butterfly knife. "Dukes, take him."

Dukes lunged forward, blade catching the light with blinding glare. Davis didn't try to avoid it. He knew you couldn't ward off a knife with bare hands. He just cocked a fist and swung. Dukes ran right into it; as his knife sunk into Davis's gut, Davis's fist imploded his nose. His momentum, plus Davis's Sunday punch. It sent him to the ground, face red and gooey. Davis stomped on his groin for good measure.

Second guy came in, swinging the chain at him. A few feet of it, at least. More than enough to do real damage. Davis caught it with his fist, knuckles flaming with pain, then backhanded it into a thug that'd been flanking him. It landed in his throat, and Davis heard something break. The man he'd taken the chain away from stood there dumbly, as if he couldn't grasp why his hands were empty. Davis swung the chain like a whip, snaking it around his throat and then yanking him to the ground so hard his scalp split on the concrete.

"Drop it!" the leader said. In the confusion, he'd slipped past Davis. Put his hands on Chloe. He had her in a chokehold. Beside them, the fourth thug was twitching on the ground. Chloe's taser had fallen next to him. "One wrong move and I'll turn her spine into a pretzel, swear to fucking God!"

Davis dropped the chain. When it hit the ground, it didn't break like a rosary would.

"Alright. You just stay there," the man said. He was sweating copiously. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket, hit speed-dial. He was making his way backward, like Davis had been doing a few moments ago. "My boy's gonna bring the car around. Me and blondie are gonna go for a little ride. You, you might wanna call 911, get that thing looked at."

"This?" Davis asked, as he pulled the knife out of his stomach. It didn't hurt. Nothing hurt.

Someone picked up on the other end of the man's phone, but he didn't notice. "What the fuck?" He tightened his arm around Chloe's neck. Put the phone to his ear. "Come get me. I _know_, come get me!"

Davis spun the knife in his fingers, feeling the heft, the weight, the contours. Blood was moving down the front of his shirt and over his belt buckle. He took a step forward.

"Hey! Hey! Stay back! I'm warning you!"

Davis took another step. And another. The knife danced between his fingers.

"What the fuck are you doing? You think I won't do it! I will fucking end her!" The man stopped moving to put a hand on Chloe's chin, like a commando about to break someone's neck.

"Davis…" Chloe pleaded.

Davis took one last step and stopped, taking a deep breath.

They weren't that far apart anymore.

"Strip darts," he said.

He threw the knife.

It hung in the air, Davis watching it grimly, Chloe instinctively shying out of its path, the man's eyes just growing wide as it got closer and closer and closer. Then it hit. The blade sunk into his forehead, right through the bridge of his nose, right down to the hilt. The man stood there. His eyes looked redder.

He fell down.

Not looking back, Chloe ran to Davis. "You're bleeding!"

"Yeah," Davis said, pressing a hand against his wound to staunch the bleeding. "I do that when I get stabbed. It's a habit of mine."

Chloe had her cell phone out, was dialing 911, was saying a lot of helpful things that Davis couldn't hear.

"Just so you know, I had a really lovely evening," Davis said.

* * *

Lex was picking petals off a flower one by one, his brow furrowed as if he were pronouncing love or hate with each one. _Loves me, loves me not…_

Davis tried to sit up. His stomach hurt. It was a good hurt, an honest hurt.

"Oh, you're awake."

Davis recognized the room he was in. It had been Chloe's. Or, Chloe's had been like his. It was a hospital. They probably prided themselves on how all the rooms looked alike.

"Is Chloe alright?"

Lex turned back to Davis. He wore a long dark coat over a silk shirt, purple. "She's fine. Sleeping. They had to drag her out of here."

"How long have I been out?"

"A little over a day. They had to give you surgery. That knife cut some organs on its way out."

Davis pulled down his sheets. A few inches over his boxers, a bandage covered his stomach. "It was worth it."

Lex turned back around, picked up an extravagant basket of flowers that he now set by Davis's bed, next to the call button. "Every hack author I've read talks about the hospital smell, so I thought I'd substitute something more pleasant." He picked a white rose from the arrangement, smelled it. "I remember as a child, I was so confused how something beautiful could hurt to touch." He lowered the flower from his nose. "I'm not confused anymore."

Davis looked around some more. There were some Get Well Soon cards, signed by friends and family. He picked one up to see a picture of a woman in a star-spangled bikini. It read 'get well soon so you can come back and play.' It was signed by Lois. She meant well.

"Who were those guys?" Davis asked, assuming Lex would know.

"Intergang members from Metropolis. They were hiding out in Smallville. Probably would've passed right through if you hadn't stood up to them. You're a hero."

"Pull the other one," Davis mumbled.

"It's funny, but sometimes it takes something like this to remind you how fleeting life is." Lex walked to the foot of Davis's bed, idly rotating the flower in his hand. "If you'd died, it wouldn't have been as my friend. So even if this isn't anything like the right time or place, I'd like to say I'm sorry for earlier. I was out of line in distrusting you."

"It's alright. I haven't been the greatest friend either."

"Maybe in the future we'll be wise enough to stop petty grievances from coming between us." Lex slotted his hands into his coat pockets. "I'll phone Chloe to tell her you're up. If you need anything, just ask."

"I'm fine."

Davis laid back and breathed in the scent of the flowers for a few minutes. A nurse came in to take his temperature and ask him how he was feeling; she wrote his answers down and hung the chart at the foot of his bed. A few minutes after that, his parents walked in.

Jonathan was bursting with false cheer; Martha was more subdued. They told him Lex was paying for his treatment. Davis didn't tell him that he didn't know if the one with the torn sleeves had survived, didn't even care anymore. He thought he'd come so far.

Martha said they should leave, to let him get some rest, and Davis didn't argue. When he was alone, he peeled down the bandage on his stomach. The hole in him was jagged, red stitched with green sutures. He touched it once. Felt cold.

Chloe came in. She was holding Lex's rose. Her eyes were red and puffy.

"Something wrong?" he asked her, pulling the sheets up to his chest.

She took a moment, rolling her head as if to indicate everything. "You're okay. That's enough." She took a step closer, the door shutting behind her. "How're you?"

"I've had worse."

Chloe laughed small. "Funny." She sat down on one of the chairs his parents had used, hands still pursed together, fidgeting. "The doctors say they've never seen anyone heal so fast."

"Guess I have a lot to live for." Davis forced a smile for her. He couldn't let this slip away. Not her. He couldn't lose her.

Chloe nodded like she had something stuck in her throat.

"He's dead, isn't he? The one who threatened you."

"Yes," Chloe said, thinking of a million ways to make it better, to tell him the cops wouldn't be arresting him, to tell him he did the right thing.

"Good."

It was just a word, but it sounded so final. Chloe told herself he didn't mean it. She knew how this went, how guilty he would feel about saying that, thinking it, later on.

"Do you need anything?" she asked.

Davis reached out. She took his hand and he inexorably pulled her next to him, scooting back across the bed to make room for her until she was lying next to him, her hair spilling across the same pillow.

"The important thing is you're okay. We're okay." She didn't let go of his hand.

"Of course I'm okay. I'm always… okay." He looked away, like he had found something in the nothingness to stare at. "Good is out of the question, but I can be okay… I still remember the way you looked at me that time. Like I was a hero. I didn't deserve that."

"Would you like to be alone?"

"No, Chloe, but I don't think it's up to me. I live. I always live. I thought that was a blessing, but it was a prison sentence. Like Cain, I have to live with what I've done."

"It was him or me, Davis. I'm glad you chose me."

"It wasn't the first time I killed someone," Davis said. His head rotated to look at her. "It wasn't even the first time I killed someone by throwing a knife."

Chloe was locked there, a dead weight next to him. Her hands were pinned to his like she was trying to squeeze the truth out of him. "I know. Harry Volk…"

"No!" Davis's face flashed with sudden pain, sudden tears. "I killed them. All of them. Greg Arkin, Sean Kelvin, Bob Rickman… there were others." He rolled closer to her, saw her shy away. "Earl Jenkins. I murdered Earl."

"No. I don't believe you." Chloe couldn't stop shaking her head. "You're delusional, it's all in your head."

"I was possessed by a demon. Or an angel. Is there a difference? Something fallen." The memories raged inside Davis, forcing their way out. He couldn't stop. He never could. "It gave me these powers and I used them to hunt the demons. I thought they were demons. I don't know anymore. I started out trying to protect people, but there was this thing in me. I called it the Red.

"It made me—" He winced as he remembered the blood. There had been so much blood. "It used me. But I got rid of it. On the field trip, I was struck by lightning. And it went into Eric." The violent march of his memories stopped. He lingered on Eric, quietly, mournfully. All that hope, gone. "I tried to guide Eric down the right path, but he wouldn't listen. And now I'm here, because the Red changed me.

"Even now that it's gone, it still lingers. I can hear things and see things that you…" He closed his eyes, tried to forget that knife floating through the air. "I know how to hurt people. I tried to do the right thing. I tried…" he reached for her.

She reared back, falling out of the bed, lying on the floor. "Is this some kind of joke? Chloe Sullivan, catnip for serial killers?"

"It's the truth, Chloe. The gospel truth."

Chloe got up slowly, pulling herself up on the back of a chair. Even when she was standing, she didn't let go of it. Her fingers had white knuckles. "You need to rest. You need to get some sleep, Davis, right now."

"Stay away from Eric. I don't think he can control the Red, not like I could."

Chloe let go of the chair. Backed away. "Go to sleep, Davis."

She closed the door behind her.

* * *

Davis lay there, letting thoughts wash over him like a rising tide. He couldn't draw his mind away from the fight, the blood and the terror and the knife spinning through the air. He was a killer. He would never be anything but a killer.

But he wasn't the only one. Intergang mobsters, holing up in Smallville. Why would they take the risk of mugging someone? Why were they _there_?

He reached for the flowers. He had to lean over to get them, stitching lightning into his wound. Once he had pulled it closer, he carefully drew back each petal and every stem.

The microphone was black, like the first spot of mold on rotting food.

"You're a real shitty friend, Lex." Davis crushed the microphone.

He'd set it up. He knew everything.

* * *

Eric watched Holly as she ate with her friends, gossiping and laughing. He would so like to tell her how beautiful she was, how perfect she was, but he couldn't think of a way to keep his praise from sounding creepy. Why'd girls have to make it so difficult, dressing like sluts and then whining whenever men looked, as if they didn't _want_ men to look, goddamn hypocrites…

"Holly, would you like to get some coffee sometime?" he asked, but it came out as a squeak. And she was twenty feet away anyway.

Eric walked closer, a few steps, then leaned against the wall. He could hear what she was saying if he strained.

She was talking about how Lex Luthor had run the Luthorcorp plant into the ground, and now it turned out he was some kind of meteor freak. Eric looked at a newspaper machine, the headline screaming out Luthor's secret, as Holly wished someone would do something about that freak.

Eric smiled, his eyes the lightest shade of red.

* * *

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Author's notes: This chapter covers 1x20 Obscura

Chloe had to find out. And of course, it had to happen just when things were looking up. But of course, things never were looking up. Eric was a psycho, Lex set the muggers on him. And with that false hope gone, Davis goes into freefall. Three chapters to go, guys.

Setting this story in season one did give me something to play with. Since this is the summer of Spider-Man, I thought it'd be fun for Davis and Chloe to go see it and lampshade some of the genre conventions they're all laboring under.

I did have some fun writing the fight scene, because it's just so PROTECT TINY BLONDE even without powers. Davis gets a knife in the gut and he… pretty much ignores it, which is a kind of stoicism that's always fun to write. And the little call-back to his killing of Jeff Palmer is a great way to start off this avalanche of all the trauma he's been through, almost like a veteran's flashback. This is the point where Davis starts to come completely unhinged and, well, we'll see if he can fight that.

On a similar note, we have Lex taking a big lunge toward the Dark Side, and in the classic Lex Luthor fashion of manipulating everyone. Then there's Eric, who despite being a complete villain, is still unable to talk to Holly, and in the next chapter they're all going to collide. Plus, it has one of my favorite Chloe moments to write, which you'll see right in the first line.

From here on out, the roller coaster is going downhill.


	19. Chapter 19

"I need you to help me with some grave-digging," Chloe said without preamble as soon as Lois answered her phone.

Lois was at least grateful for the break from contemplating the newspaper headlines she had caused by sending out Chloe's story. Mutually assured destruction—it sounded a lot better before everything was destroyed.

"Is that some reporter metaphor?" she asked.

"Grab a shovel and meet me at the graveyard."

Chloe hung up.

* * *

Thought became action very quickly for Davis. It was like the Red had never left. Damage control. He needed to find out who Lex had told about this. Then he had to stop him from telling anyone else.

To do that, he needed to find Lex. To do that, he needed to get out of this bed.

It felt like he was splitting in half when he sat up. The crack of thunder at the same time made him wonder about his spine. He swung his legs out and already the pain abated. When he walked, the hurt quickly settled into a pattern he could live with.

Next on the agenda: Clothes. Transportation. A paramedic would do for both. Grabbing a robe from the dresser and wrapping it around himself, he ventured out and asked the first nurse he saw where the ambulances were, his little brother had said he was going to check them out. The nurse smiled politely and gave him directions, then hurried along at the sound of the next thunderclap. Davis wondered how hospitals got ready for tornadoes.

The ambulance bay was empty except for one EMT playing solitaire. Davis caught him in a chokehold just long enough for him to still be breathing when he was let go

Davis moved fast and precise. In forty seconds, he was wearing the paramedic's uniform. Blue shirt, black pants, dark jacket. Good fit too. "Hope you don't mind me driving," Davis said, swiping his keys. "I only have a learner's permit."

* * *

There was one perk to the stormy weather currently painting the sky black like spilled pain. The cemetery caretaker was long gone, the steel gate swinging in the wind. Chloe bypassed the parking lot and parked her Bug right outside it, then held the gate open while she and Lois stepped through.

Lois carried the shovels.

"So, are we here for one grave in particular or will anyone who's been recently hung do?"

"Here," Chloe said, stopping in front of a grave so new the flowers on it were just wilting. The headstone read 'Robert Rickman.'

"Bob Rickman?" Lois said. "The businessman?"

Chloe took a shovel from her. "Start digging."

They got to work, as thunder rumbled above them like the sky was breaking.

"What a filthy job," Lois griped, tossing off another shovelful of dirt.

"Could be worse," Chloe replied tersely.

"How?"

"Could be raining."

With another, still louder crack of thunder, the rainfall began.

"Okay, _that's it_." Lois tossed her shovel aside. "Why the hell are we digging up a perfectly good grave?"

Chloe's shovel hit wood. "Because I need to know the truth."

She knelt down and scrubbed the muddy dirt off the coffin with her bare hands, until she could open it up. Bob Rickman's skull leered up at them, the rainwater immediately chiseling at it. Chloe looked at it, shoulders heaving like she was crying.

"What did you expect to find?" Lois asked from outside the pit.

"I don't…" A trickle of green water ran past the skull. "Know."

Chloe scrambled up, whirling around to clear off the rest of the coffin. She practically ripped the bottom half of the lid open. Reached in and scooped up a handful of the dust Bob Rickman had returned to.

What she let run through her fingers was glowing green.

"Meteor rocks," Lois said.

"He was trying to save us." Chloe let the rain wash her hands clean. "He was trying to protect me."

Lightning exploded in epic contrast to Chloe's quiet realization. All the puzzle pieces fitting together, slotting into place, the picture finally coming into focus. And in the flash of blue light, she saw something else.

"Lois!"

Lois turned around, not fast enough, as sleet flew away from Clark's speeding passage. He grabbed Lois by the lapels and held her over the open grave. "_You!_"

"Lois!" Chloe screamed again, but she and Clark might as well have been on different worlds.

"You ruined everything!" Clark gritted out, rain washing over his face in thick torrents. "I loved you and you stabbed me in the heart!"

"Not you, Lex! He poisoned Chloe!"

"Chloe?" In another sky-splitting thunderbolt, Clark saw the blonde. Muddy water lapped at her feet. "You… goddamn idiot. He didn't poison Chloe. He _spared_ her. He could've had her arrested for trespassing on his property, but he didn't! You have no idea how much Lex has done for you, for everyone! He's helped so much!" He shook Lois. "This town is being overrun by monsters and he helped me turn the tide! We had it all under control, and now Smallville is going straight to hell!"

"Monsters?"

Clark dropped Lois to focus on Chloe. "Yes, Miss Sullivan. Monsters. Like your friend Bob down there. They're real. We've been keeping them in check, no thanks to you. Bad enough you helped Greg Arkin get away from us—"

"Arkin? The commandoes?" Lois said, wiping her hair out of her eyes. "That was you."

He turned on her, throwing off rainwater. "Yes, Lois! Try to keep up!"

A shovel crashed into the back of Clark's head. Chloe had climbed out of the grave.

Clark turned around. "It runs in the family, Miss Sullivan." He snatched the shovel from her and crushed the spade into tin foil.

"You." Chloe backed up, fell on her ass in the mud. "That strength… you killed Justin!"

"I'm not a killer!" Clark threw the shovel away. "I capture them, humanely! I'm like a… a dog-catcher!"

"But if it wasn't you…" Chloe remembered Davis's ranting confession, and the last puzzle piece clicked into place. "Eric Summers. He's killing the meteor freaks."

Lightning boomed once more, drowning out Clark's whispered "Lex."

He ran, leaving a brief empty space in the rain that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

* * *

It was bad outside, dark during day like a curtain had been drawn across the sun. Winds howled like banshees and Davis saw quite a few station wagons and minivans, loaded down with both luggage and family, headed out of town. One by one, the traffic lights stopped cycling and just flashed red. At one of the last, Davis figured out the ambulance's siren. He drove to Lex's mansion, never taking his foot off the pedal.

The mansion was obviously only being run by a skeleton crew. The parking lot, usually full of anonymous black sedans, was now a ghost town. It made for good parking. Davis imagined even Lex didn't have enough money to hire employees who'd weather a tornado for him.

One of the remaining bodyguards stopped him at the door. "No visitors."

"There's a man hemorrhaging inside! Let me through or your boss will have a lawsuit on his hands that'll eat up to his elbows!"

The guard reached for his earpiece and Davis swung, the tire iron secured with medical tape inside his jacket sleeve ending it quick. Davis stepped over the comatose form and didn't close the door behind him, letting the storm in.

Hail joined the rain, growing so loud it sounded like the mansion was just a toybox being violently shaken. Davis walked into an argument between Lex and his father, something about Lex trying to buy out the plant. When Lex saw Davis he broke off in mid-sentence, the blood draining from his face. Lionel turned to see what had agitated his son.

"Mr. Luthor," Davis said. "Can Lex come out to play?"

"Father, could you give us a minute?" Lex said, regaining his composure.

Davis just stared at him.

"I can see why you want to stay here," Lionel said to Lex. "The town has welcomed you with open arms."

"That wasn't a request."

Lionel grandly strolled out, eyeing Davis as he passed him. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure," Lionel purred. He didn't look back, though.

Davis slammed the door in a shocking burst of violence. "I thought you were my friend," he gritted out. "_Why?_"

Lex walked around the room like a captain saying goodbye to a sinking ship. "It's complicated." He settled behind his desk. "I trust you're familiar with the story of Cain and Abel."

"The first murderer. The first victim." Davis nodded. "I know it."

"Did you ever wonder why Cain's sacrifices weren't as good as Abel's?" Lex leaned forward, into the rain-shadowed light from the window. "_He knew God didn't deserve the sacrifice._"

Davis grabbed Lex by his tie and hauled him across the desk. "Who else knows!?"

"Just you and me. I thought it best it stay between friends."

"Then what's to stop me from ripping your head off like a weed?"

Lex put his hands around Davis's wrist, lowering it. "Because I learned from Phelan's example."

"Phelan?"

"He put me on your trail. Or his last will and testament did. Now if anything happens to me, your secret goes out to every concerned party in the fifty states, starting with your parents."

Slowly, Davis responded to the subtle pressure of Lex's hands. He released Lex. "So what's your game?" he asked, disgusted.

"Nothing." Lex leaned back, adjusting his suit. "I'm going to destroy all the evidence of your extracurricular activities. A sign of good faith. We're on the same side, Davis. It's time we pool our resources."

"I'm nowhere near your side."

"One day you'll look back at your naiveté and laugh. You're fighting a war. On the battlefield, there are no neutral parties. Everyone takes a side."

"Not me. I'm retired."

Lex stood up as hail struck the mansion like a castle under siege. "Did you think you were the only one who knew about Kryps? My father knew. He's known since the meteor shower."

Davis cocked his head. "Meteor shower?"

"He's using my brother to round them up. He's turning them into an army. Lionel destroyed this town to get me back under his heel. What do you think he'll do to the world—"

"What are you talking about?" Kent demanded.

"The Luthorcorp plant. He's shutting it down. This is a one-horse town and my father just shot the horse."

"No… before that." Davis leaned over the desk, close enough to Lex to bite his face off. "What does the meteor shower have to do with the demons?"

"What demons?" Lex backed up, out of Davis's face. "Davis, the Kryps aren't some Biblical menace. They're people exposed to meteor rocks, what we call Kryptonite."

"People?"

"Yes, just blessed with abilities beyond the ken of mortal man."

"Blessed…" Davis tried to sit down, stumbled, and sprawled on his back. "They were people," he said, voice cracking. "All of them. Just people."

Lex immediately grasped the source of Davis's agony as he knelt over the stricken teenager. "They made their choice. They were killers. You only gave them what they deserved."

"Killers…" The hail shattered windows, broke roof tiles. "We were all blessed, and we used our gifts to destroy each other. Even me." He looked at Lex with eyes that had gazed into the abyss for too long. "We're all demons, Lex. And this is the hell we've made."

The door creaked open, its moan almost lost in the storm. Lionel.

"Get out!" Lex screamed, but as he got to his feet, he saw that Lionel's were dangling off the floor.

Eric tossed the elder Luthor aside. "Hey ya, Lex. Nice weather we're having." He pulled the Starblade from his red jacket. "Oh, Davis, didn't see you there. What're you doing on the floor?"

Davis shut his eyes. "'And whoever shall cause one of these little ones who believe in me to fall into sin, it is better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were cast into the sea,'" he quoted. "I'm sorry, Eric. I failed you."

"Yeah, nice to see you too. Love the outfit, really suits you, and I hear the ladies love a man in uniform." Eric stalked closer to Lex, who was inching around his desk.

"I gave you a burden you were never meant to bear." If Davis's eyes had been open, he would've seen nothing but the ceiling, never even looking at Eric's advance on Lex.

"What are you talking about, Davis?" Eric's eyes were fixed wolfishly on Lex. "This is the best job in the world. I get to kill people for God."

"That occupation just doesn't carry the same standing as a doctor. Maybe it's your colleagues in the field." Lex inched behind his desk as if it could offer any protection. It could. He pulled a .45 out of the righthand drawer. "That's far enough, Mr… who are you anyway?"

"I'm the hero of the story." He took a step forward. "Holly says hi."

Lex shot him in the face.

And the chest.

And the leg. And the shoulder. And between the eyes.

Eric took another step. His wounds closed, the one in his head last. Eric touched his headshot, reaching into the wound up to the knuckle, then licked his fingers. "Mmm. Brain food."

Davis grabbed his leg. "No."

"What was that?"

Davis got up, letting go of Eric's heel but standing between him and Lex. "I said no. No more killing, no more hurting. No more."

"You would defy me to protect _him?_"

"Yes. Even him."

"Aren't you forgetting something? I have all your powers!"

"I still have one."

"This I gotta hear." Eric waved the dagger between him. "Faith? The courage of your conviction? Mommy and Daddy's unconditional love?"

"Those. And a Size 14 shoe." Davis kicked Eric square in the groin. "Grow those back." He knelt down to flip Eric over, planted a knee between his shoulder blades, then wrenched his head back with an arm around his neck. "Lex, why aren't those effeminate Italian shoes running?"

Lex ran, heels digging into the carpet when he remembered to grab his father.

Lionel had regained consciousness with the volley from Lex's gun. He pushed Lex away, spellbound by the slow-motion arc of the Starblade in Eric's hand. It sailed over Eric's shoulder, toward Davis's face, only stopping when Davis caught it by the cross-guard. The Starblade immediately disintegrated in Davis's grip.

"Sageeth," Lionel whispered.

Davis broke Eric's wrist. "One thing I was always careful to avoid when I had the Red. Strangulation. You can heal, sure, but without oxygen, the brain just shuts down And once I get you in a noose, the only way you'll wake up is for your trial."

"Don't call it the Red," Eric gagged. "It's the Voice of God…"

He went limp.

* * *

It was so tempting to pull the noose a little tighter, break the windpipe, the spine, then fall into the comfortable routine of denial. He didn't. It was still tight enough to turn Eric's throat red while the rest of him turned white.

Lex watched Davis tie off the curtain rope he'd used as a noose, not panicked, just overtly intrigued.

Davis sat back against Lex's desk. "Don't take that off until you have him secured. Chains, bars, guards… whatever works."

Eric's eyes were moving under their lids like he was watching a nightmare unfold. The rest of his body was paralyzed.

"You gonna arrest me?" Davis asked.

Lex stared at him, his eyes stuck wide open. "I don't know."

Davis came to a decision as the rain drizzled lightly, like they were in the eye of the storm. He stood up. "I'm going to leave now."

He'd only gotten a few steps when the door flew off its hinges. Clark stood there, his presence the echoing thunder to his arrival. "Lex!"

"I'm fine, Clark." Lex rubbed his temple. "Davis…"

Lionel leapt up, jabbing a finger at Davis. "Clark, stop him! He's Sageeth!"

Clark's eyes snapped to Davis who backed up, dropping into a defensive posture.

"It's him!" Lionel cried. "You have to kill him, kill him now!"

Davis's vision swung wildly to Lionel. "Lex, what's your dad talking about?" he asked, trying to stay calm.

"But he's… just some kid," Clark said as his legs carried him toward Davis.

"That is just a shell, Clark, meant to deceive you! He's camouflage for the ultimate predator, the ultimate destroyer! Even now it lurks in his subconscious, waiting for the right moment to strike!"

"That's bullshit!" Davis backed into a wall trying to keep clear of Clark. "I'm free now, I was cured! I haven't had that thing in my head since…" Davis turned to see Eric quietly shaking on the floor. He remembered his narcolepsy, how it had disappeared with the Red's arrival. He remembered how Red Eyes only came out at night, while he slept. He remembered his own words. _ I don't think he can control the Red, not like I could._

The conscious mind resisted the Red. He'd just put Eric's out of commission.

Eric sat up, skin a rocky landscape of bone, voice deep, eyes blazing red at Davis. "God doesn't love you."

Then he attacked.

* * *

  


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* * *

  


* * *

  


* * *

Author's notes: This chapter covers 1x21 Tempest.

May I just say I love that Chloe's first response to hearing her boyfriend is a serial killer is to dig up a grave and check things out? It's very pragmatic, in a way. In a crazy way.

Now originally the story would linger on for a while, with Davis as a sort of pariah because the police suspected him of being a killer, but with Lex protecting him they couldn't prove it. But then, this is the nineteenth chapter and as I wrote it, I realized there wasn't going to be a better spot for a climax, with the tornado, and everyone converging on Lex for this confrontation. Better to have everything go wrong at once, dramatically speaking, than to stagger it out.

I also love that I got a chance to play around with canon and put Davis in a paramedic's uniform. It works on a bit of a subtextual/ironical level too. He helps in emergencies, when he's not causing them.

I did cheat a little with Davis being able to overcome Eric, given Eric's strength, but if you need a big long action sequence, well, there's always next chapter. I'll just justify it as Davis having much better leverage and tai chi and stuff. Hey, if Captain America can get away with it…

And yes, I did quote Young Frankenstein, thank you for noticing.


	20. Chapter 20

Davis tried to dodge Red Eyes, but it wasn't after him. It lunged into Clark, so close Davis felt the wind of its passage, then it was pinning Clark to the ground.

It was _growing_. Davis could see horns and bone spurs tearing out of Eric's body as its skin thickened to a gray, corpse-like pallor. Its muscles grew like tumors, opening up the tears his spikes had made. The end of the transformation was more beast than man. It roared in Clark's face with a mouth of sharp daggers.

Clark shoved it away; the beast hit the second level of the room, fell. It landed on its feet like a cat. For all its bulk, the thing was agile. It lunged again for Clark, who blurred out of the way. No sooner had the beast landed than its arm lashed out and caught Clark. It threw him through the wall, deep into the horizon. After a jubilant howl, the thing looped after Clark on all fours.

Davis fell to his knees, trembling, just one more piece of debris settling.

"What the _fuck_ was that thing?" Lex finally asked.

"Me," Davis said.

* * *

Lois struggled to see through the rain-hammered windshield with more concentration than she ever used when she actually was driving. Chloe's fingers were white-knuckled on the wheel and she stared straight ahead as if she could see all the way to the Luthor mansion.

A fencepost struck the windshield, building a glass spider-web over a third of it.

Lois screamed. "Pull over! Chloe, stop this car right now!"

"He needs me!" Chloe shouted back, nerves frayed to the breaking point.

"Look out!"

Chloe jammed on the brakes and her tiny car hydroplaned wildly, the jerking headlights giving them a glimpse of the gray mass bounding across the road. Enough to see it wasn't human.

The Volkswagen came to a stop, halfway off the road. Chloe unbuckled her seatbelt and got out.

"Where are you going?" Lois cried.

"Whatever that thing was, Davis will be between it and innocent people. That's where I'll find him." She pulled her hood on. "Go find a ditch, lie down in it. When this is all over, you have to tell the world what happened here. You have to write Smallville's obituary."

* * *

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death..."

"Davis, I think this is one of those times when God is most likely to help those who help themselves," Lex cut in.

Davis didn't move, except to cross himself. "Amen." He started in on an Our Father.

Lex looked out the hole in the wall, which might as well have been a hole in a submarine for how much water was getting in. Distantly, he could see the graceful funnel of a twister, winding its way through Smallville like a ballet.

"Vault," he decided, linking his arms under Davis's shoulders. "Help me!" he shouted to Lionel.

"Lex, that thing's only purpose is to kill Clark—"

"_Dad!_" Lex craned his neck back. "Sageeth isn't in him anymore. It's _loose._ You want to stop it, this is the man who knows how. Now _help me_ or get out of my way."

Lionel got Davis's legs.

* * *

Clark saw stars. He kind of liked it; it had never happened to him before. They were all sorts of colors…

He shook his head. He was in town square, at the bottom of a crater filling with run-off. It was at least fifteen feet deep at the center, which was where he was. A sense of déjà vu gripped him, though he couldn't say why.

No sooner had he recovered than a hand like a vice was crushing his head. It shoved him down under the water. Clark thought of Lois. His eyes burned.

Instantly, every drop of water in the crater turned to steam. The beast reared up, roaring as its flesh peeled away. Anything else would've had the decency to die. Red Eyes struck Clark with a closed fist, claws breaking off in his chest, and Luthor flew back into a man-sized sewer tunnel, throwing up sparks where he scraped the sides.

He fell asleep to the sound of the metal tunnel groaning as Red Eyes forced its way in.

* * *

The Luthors set Davis down amidst the treasure of a thousand cultures and he began another Hail Mary. As Lionel got the door, Lex shook Davis by the collar. "You listen to me, farmboy. _Listen!_ That's my brother out there, fighting that monster! So if you can stop praying for your immortal soul long enough to tell us how to stop it—"

"Me?" Davis laughed like glass breaking. "I'm not praying for me. I probably don't even have a soul. I'm praying for you. All of you people, given this extraordinary gift, and what do you do? You try to figure out how to patent it, and kill people with it, and use it to get laid. What's the point of fighting it? Our ability to control the world has finally outraced our ability to control ourselves. We're an endangered species. All we can do now is hope that God gets it right next time."

"Davis, you can't condemn the entire human race on the actions of a few. Of course you've seen blood. You're a First Responder. It's your job to see evil and heal it. But you can't lose faith that there's another world out there, where people love and…"

"There isn't," Lionel said gravely.

Lex looked up at him. "Could you pick a worse moment?"

"If you're saying it gets easier, son, you're wrong. It does not, let me assure you." Lionel crouched down in front of Davis. "'Fallen' is the, ah, nicest way I can put it. The human heart can justify any betrayal, any harm, any depravity."

Davis's eyes shot up, as if to say 'you'd know'. Lionel pressed on.

"So we fight, we sweat, we _bleed_ to make this world of ours run a bit smoother, because it's all we can do. If you want to lie there like a martyr and wait for the Kingdom of Heaven, that's your decision. But I'm going to move the world." Lionel's voice rose, his eyes burning as hot as Davis's ever had, his face turning red. "I will push it, shove it, throw myself against it until I'm black and blue to move it one tiny inch…!"

Lionel took a deep breath. He met Davis's eyes. He exhaled. "So at the end of the day, those I love will have a brighter future. Maybe I'm not the best man to lead the world. But at least I'm trying. Now, my son is in danger. Please."

He got down on his knees in front of Davis.

"I beg you. If there's anything you can do… help my boy."

Davis looked at Lionel and was struck by the sheer pleading in his eyes. The muscles of his jaw clenched, his lips pressing into a thin line, then parting. His eyes shifted, looking from father to son and back again. He closed his mouth. Drew himself up to his full height. Turned to Lex, his face lit by the green glow of a piece of meteor rock. "Either of you own a Hummer?"

* * *

Clark woke up to a pain in his foot. He looked down to see the beast had bitten off his shoe and two of his toes. Screaming, Clark kicked at it with his other foot. Destruction rippled through the beast and into the undersized sewer tunnel. The Richer Scale jogged. The creature shrugged off Clark's blows and planted its arms on either side of it. With a modicum of strength, it began to rend open the tunnel.

Clark scooted backward, heels and elbows, as he realized what it was doing. Rising water lapped at him, plastered his clothes to his skin. Debris fell into the splitting tunnel, breaking on Clark and splashing him when it landed in the water under him.

The beast ripped the tunnel open, burying Clark in moss-covered bricks. Clark broke free, kicked away as the beast reached for him with its freed arm. The hand closed just short of his ankle. Clark blew sheer cold at it, freezing the tunnel into ice. The beast immediately began to hammer through.

Clark scrambled on all fours, grabbing the lowest rung of a tunnel and pulling himself up. In seconds, he had butted the manhole cover away and was pulling himself into open air.

He picked up the heavy lid and stood over the manhole, waiting for the beast to hit the bottleneck.

"C'mon, you son of a bitch," he muttered to the deserted street. "You got a taste of me. Now come up here and eat my—"

A gray hand burst out of the asphalt and hooked on Clark's leg, then flung him sideways through a parking meter and into a display window. Clark saw everything turn black again.

* * *

Gabe Sullivan had just recovered from hearing a tree fall through his picture window when he heard a new sound. The roar of a V8 engine as (he looked through a boarded-up window) a black Hummer barreled onto his frown lawn and skidded to a stop just shy of his porch. Davis leapt out wearing, of all things, a paramedic's uniform. "Hey, Mr. Sullivan. Is Chloe home?"

Gabe threw open the door. "Get inside! Jesus! What the heck is going on?"

Davis assumed a thoughtful expression, like he was thinking of how best to sum it up, before he settled on "Some serious shit. But no, really, is Chloe here? I kinda need to talk to her."

"She's not here. She went to the cemetery."

"Oh." Davis's mask cracked almost imperceptibly. "I guess I'll meet her there. Well, when you see her again, tell her… tell her I… tell her she was right about me. And take care of her, will you? She is way more special than she realizes."

"I know," Gabe said, confused. "I will."

Davis looked past Gabe. "Hey, can I borrow that shotgun?"

* * *

Clark felt his back being cut to ribbons as he was dragged out of the storefront. He wondered how bad it was if a little glass could cut him. Then he saw the beast standing over him and realized that very soon, it wouldn't matter.

"What are you?" Clark spat, along with a good deal of blood.

The beast stood over him, a thunderhead made flesh. Its mouth opened like a gash widening. "**Doom,**" it said in a voice as deep as the grave.

It stomped on him and Clark felt a rib go. A kick, and there went another. He rolled over, closing in on himself, trying to protect himself like a fetus in the womb. The rain stung his many wounds like a thousand red-hot needles working their way deeper and deeper.

For a moment the barrage stopped (that was what it felt like, like an artillery barrage), then the beast fell on all fours and bit into his neck. Blood, thick and hot, rolled down Clark's back as the beast shook him in its jaws, swiping his body through brick and mortar, slapping him against the sidewalk.

Then he heard a V8 engine.

Davis snapped the headlights on an instant before the H2 hit Red Eyes, letting it see who was in the driver's seat. The glare blinded it and then, collision. As big and tough as the beast was, it was much less an immovable object than the Hummer was an irresistible force.

The car ripped the beast off Clark and punched it through the sliding doors into the supermarket, snapping it through three aisles before burying it in the frozen foods section. The beast was smashed through the doors, through the trays of frozen goods, and into the stacks of beer cartons behind the walkway. Its face dented the hood and oozed blood.

Davis, for his part, lifted his bloody head off the wheel to see the beast slumped on the hood of his totaled car. "Hello again," he muttered.

A hand clawed into the hood like the talons of a gargantuan bird of prey landing. The other hand scraped down the hood like a spider's legs.

Davis hit the release button on his seatbelt. It didn't release.

"Oh, fuck my life."

The beast shoved the Hummer back and up with all its might. The H2, tearing through ceiling tiles and florescent lights, cleared the store before it even came back down. Davis stomped on the brakes, but he might as well have been stomping on the radio. He saw a gas station rearing up in the rear-view, then he spun the wheel. The Hummer veered into the deep crater Clark had made when he landed.

Davis felt his back wrench when the rear door splashed down. He tried his door. It wouldn't open. Water was rising up the backseat. He snatched Gabe's shotgun from the passenger seat and smashed out the windshield with the rifle butt. He wiggled out, pulled himself on top of the H2's grille to see Clark, in a watery pool of his own blood, and the beast limping towards him.

Davis leapt onto stable ground and felt his ankle scream with pain. He leaned on the shotgun as a crutch, took a few steps away from the crater, then brought it up. He fired a shot into the beast. A shower of sparks against its bony hide was the only response. It took another step and dragged itself closer to Clark.

Davis pumped the shotgun, breathing hard now. Pain was coming in from all over his body and spots were appearing and disappearing in front of his eyes, but he shoved those to the back of his mind. He took careful aim again, and fired again. The beast's chest exploded like the Halloween he'd lit a firecracker in a pumpkin. Blood and gristle dribbled out of the hole. The beast just snorted and walked through what was left of the storefront.

Clark was directly in front of it, sprawled on the sidewalk with an arm down in the gutter. Davis fired a third shot over him, into the beast's crushed leg. The thing roared as bone chips flew out the other side of its leg.

Davis racked another shot, sending pain shooting through his arm. "Come on and die, you son of a bitch!" Davis screamed, firing and blowing up a bone spur.

The beast reached down, took hold of Clark. Its hand covered his entire head. It hoisted him up like a rag doll.

Davis threw the gun aside. "_Eric Summers!_"

The beast paused, like a dog hearing a whistle.

"You wanna know why Holly won't go out with you? It's because everyone knows you're the biggest fucking loser in Smallville!"

The creature's head slowly rotated to look at him.

"I mean, really now. Is there a single limp-dick idiot in this town more pathetic than you?" Davis walked backward. "You smell like a fucking junkyard. All you ever do is whine about how girls won't go out with you, like you have some God-given right to see their panties. It'd almost be amusing, only you're such a bitch about it."

Clark slipped through the beast's fingers as it focused all its attention on Davis, who was walking around the crater.

"And now you have superpowers and whoa, big surprise, you still can't get laid. Maybe if you spent a little less time masturbating and a little more time actually being nice to people, someone would bother to get to know you? Just a theory, shithead."

The beast roared, smashed the ground with its fist. Water exploded up, chips of concrete shooting everywhere. Davis felt them sting his face.

"Let's just face it, Eric. Even with superpowers, you're still just a pale reflection of me! And now you're a fucking bug-eyed monster and you still bore me to tears. It's literally astonishing that a human being could be such a huge fucking disappointment. I mean, no wonder your daddy's ashamed of you. He wanted a son, and you're just this… sniveling mass of polyp."

The bone spurs retracted a short way into the beast's body, its face twitched, and then the spikes shot out longer than ever. It roared again, louder than ever.

"Come on, motherfucker! Come get me! I'm right here!"

The beast surged forward, shouldering a parked car out of its way. The Studebaker flew end over end down the street. Davis turned and ran, pushing his way into a Laundromat… not fast enough. The beast impacted the doorway, slapping against his back. Davis went flying, slamming into a washing machine, cracking its window. He tasted blood. Sound thundered in his ears as the beast crashed trough the doorway in a shower of debris.

Davis scrambled for the back door, feet slipping on the cold linoleum, going on all fours when he had to. He just managed to get out of the way as the beast pounced, coming so close a bone spur ripped a line through his flapping jacket. The thing took out a bank of washing machines. The impact jarred Davis off his feet and he landed on his elbow, sharp pain piercing his body.

He laid on his back, every hurt in his body mobbing him. _Please, God… I don't wanna die…_

He heard a hiss. Electricity.

Through the flapping backdoor, he could see downed power lines.

Davis slipped the Luthors' Kryptonite out of his pocket.

He fought his way to his feet as the beast pulled itself loose from the wall.

Their eyes locked, brown and red.

Davis ran, rolling over a line of dryers and sprinting for the door. The beast was right on his ass, smashing through the dryers. Davis registered one flying overhead and punching through the wall. He heard the beast roar and dropped down, skidded on the wet floor as its hand closed above him, then the glowing EXIT sign was casting its light on him. He rocketed through the door, felt the rain slap his face, took in the power lines. He was holding the Kryptonite in one hand. He dove for the power lines with the other, grabbed one by the rubber coating…

Felt a massive hand close on his leg.

Davis whirled around, jabbing the power line at the beast. It grabbed his arm with its other hand, stopping the power line cruelly short of its face. Davis felt his bones break as it squeezed. He screamed.

The beast took its time lifting him up, jagging his broken bones against each other. Davis screamed until his voice went ragged. He was above the beast's head, crucified. The beast fell to one knee, a sharp spur on its leg waiting for Davis. The beast roared out its triumph.

Davis looked down to see the beast's knee was resting in a puddle.

"Yeah, so's your mother," he said.

And dropped the power line into the water.

The last thing he heard was Chloe calling his name.

* * *

Author's notes: Well, that was… intense.

Clearly, one of the big opportunities from turning Eric Summers into Doomsday was to have this blow-out confrontation between Davis and Doomsday, where Davis has snapped but decided to take Doomsday with him, almost. And of course there is Davis trash-talking Eric, which I think some of you will appreciate. Since this is Davis vs. Doomsday, you gotta have some way of pwning Eric in there, and this fits.

Of course, all the Luthor stuff comes a little full circle here, with Lex and finally Lionel able to talk Davis into opposing Doomsday. For whatever reason, I wanted to subvert the cliché where the hero's girlfriend or bestie or mentor talks him into saving the day, and actually have the villain, who is very ends-justify-the-means in a way no other member of the cast is, talk Davis out of his funk.

Of course, one of the problems of doing these author's notes is that I wrote this fic a while ago, got it betaed, revised it, started posting it, and now I'm writing this just before I'm posting it. So if you ask "hey, how come Lionel calls Davis bubba instead of pal?", I'm just like "I dunno lol!"

This is why writing porn is easier. I can just get away with saying "because it's hot."


	21. Chapter 21

Chloe's coat was soaked through by the time she got to the source of the roaring and screams and fighting. She walked onto Main Street in time to see the Laundromat crumble, then she saw the gray thing tearing through the backdoor. Then she saw Davis being picked up in its massive claws.

"Davis!" She ran, not knowing what she could do against a seven-foot-tall mountain of muscles, not really caring. She was halfway through the Laundromat when lighting flashed in front of her and two screams, human and inhuman, exploded. She slipped, went down, blinded.

Then she heard Eric Summers say, in a hoarse voice, "I'm not healing. Why aren't I…"

"This was never your curse," Davis said, his voice strong and even. "I'm sorry I let it kill you too."

Chloe walked out the back of the Laundromat to see Davis Kent and Eric Summers, lying side by side. Eric's head lolled to the side, blood spilling out of his mouth and into the rain.

Chloe looked away from Eric's corpse, gasped when she saw Davis. His bloody clothes were rent to reveal healing skin, but that wasn't what shocked her. Half of his face and one arm were oversized monstrosities of themselves, gray hulks covered in bony thorns.

"Put a bullet in his heart while he had powers," Davis's voice was gritty and deep, half of it coming from the beast's throat. "Left it in there when I took them back. Killed him. Killed him like all the others…"

The gray spread across his face, bone ripping out of his gums and chin…

Chloe got closer to him as he shook. "Davis? It's me." She took hold of his monstrous hand, careful not to cut herself on the bone spurs, and held it up to her face. Rubbing it along her face, letting him feel her skin. "It's me." She ran her hand over the jagged contours of his face as it retook its color, as if the rain were washing an infection out of him. "What'd they do to you?"

"Who's they?" Davis's voice lost its deep timbre, lost all feeling. It was soft and empty. "God? The Devil? No, no!" He looked at her, something like a smile pulling at his lips as they turned pink again. The bones sunk under his flesh and his red eyes closed, opened brown. "I thought God had abandoned me. I was wrong. He gave me you."

"It's okay," Chloe whispered, petting his scalp, feeling the blood disappear. "It's over now. I know the truth. I know what you've been through. But it's okay. I'm gonna take care of you now."

"I'd like that," Davis said.

Chloe bent over him and kissed him gently, cutting her lip on the last of his fangs before it slipped vindictively back into him. She ruefully wiped her bleeding mouth on the back of her hand, then kissed his forehead. "I love you."

"Love you too."

Lightning flashed. Davis saw Clark, watching them, his eyes as blue as the thunderbolt.

"No!" Davis leapt up, throwing himself in front of Chloe. "No!"

Clark stepped into the light that spilled out of the Laundromat. His hands were in his pockets. They both knew Davis was weak, and Clark had had a lot more time to recover.

"It's true, isn't it? You're Sageeth."

"No. I'm Davis Kent." Davis sagged his shoulders. "I don't wanna fight."

"I've read the prophecy. Destiny says it isn't up to us."

"Free will—"

"Do you even have free will? Maybe you just think you do. Maybe you're just an elaborate mass of programming, saying all the right things to put me off-guard, telling me what I want to hear. And then you'll kill me. Because you won't be able to help yourself."

Chloe put a hand on Davis's shoulder, squeezing it as she stood next to him. "I believe in him. And if you want to kill him, you can just go through me."

Clark shook his head. "I wouldn't like that."

They stood there, like they were waiting for the rain to stop.

"You're gonna save the world, huh?" Davis asked.

"That's right," Clark said.

"I think you'd better start sooner rather than later."

Clark looked out into the distance. "Storm's ending." He looked back at Davis, Chloe. "You saved my life. I won't forget that. But I won't forget the prophecy either."

The next time lightning flashed, he was gone.

* * *

The storm ended. The rain stopped falling and the thunder lost its voice. When the commandoes came, black boots stomping through puddles, they found Davis and Chloe inside the Laundromat, drying off. Davis, insomnious, had his arm around Chloe. She was fast asleep. He smiled lowly as red laser sights dotted his chest, his face, his eyes.

Giving Chloe's hair one last caress, he lowered her onto the bench and stood up, arms raised. "It's okay. Don't shoot. I'm a good guy."

They led him away, the hem of his jacket slipping out of Chloe's hand.

In laboratories all around the country, Luthorcorp scientists were researching ways to kill him. Lionel was receiving status updates, letting the dust that had been the Starblade sift through his fingers. Clark was turning an engagement ring box over in his hands, never opening it, but knowing how the diamond sparkled in the light.

And Lex, Lex knew he had no reason to worry.

The commandoes put Davis in a paddywagon. The doors closed on him, his eyes red, his smile real.

* * *

The next update Lionel was received was simple. "Your men are still alive. Next time, no promises."

* * *

He was in and out of the Kent farm before his parents got out of the storm cellar. He left a short note, promising he'd send them more letters. Then he packed. He put his luggage in the back of the pick-up and took a moment to check his route on the roadmaps. He wouldn't even have to go through town.

He drove toward Smallville anyway.

* * *

Chloe was walking home when he arrived. He stopped the pick-up by her. In front of it, there was devastation that couldn't be blamed on any storm.

"I'm not asking you to come," he said.

Chloe looked at him.

"But if you want to, there's room."

* * *

The police assumed Eric had died in the storm. At his funeral, Holly cried real tears.

* * *

They were still combing through the rubble for Chloe and Davis when Lois's phone rang. She blew her nose one last time and sent her tissue to join the pile on the floor, then answered.

"Clark?"

"No, it's Chloe. I'm okay."

Lois sat up in bed. "Chloe! Hold on, let me get your dad, he's been worried sick…"

"No! Not yet. I can't face him yet. Later, I promise."

"Where are you?"

"At a gas station. Don't ask which, they're all the same anyway. I'm with Davis. Don't try to find us."

"Are you insane? Of course I'm going to try to find you!"

"Lois, I'm safe. I'm happy. I'm sorry I didn't have time to say goodbye, but we were…" Lois heard Chloe's smile form. "—kinda on a deadline. Listen, everything I've ever done, right or wrong, has been for the truth. And, now I know."

"And you're running away."

"It's the only way I can protect Davis."

"So you're just going to sacrifice yourself for him? This is your life we're talking about!"

"Yeah. My life. Lois, you've been the best big sister anyone could ask you. You taught me that doing the right thing is never a sacrifice. And if anyone deserves to be saved, it's him. You'll hear from me again."

"Wait, Chloe!" Lois grasped for something to say. "You really think it's worth it? Giving up your life, your career, your family…"

"I do."

"Then, uh…" Lois laid back. "Can I use Chloe Sullivan as my penname?"

Chloe laughed. "What?"

"I just think it would be a damn shame if Chloe Sullivan didn't make it to the Daily Planet somehow."

"Since when do you wanna be a reporter?"

"Yeah. The public needs to know that there are people like Lionel Luthor out there… and like Davis."

"I love him, Lois."

"I know. I'm happy for you. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"Never could be."

The next thing Lois heard was a dial tone.

An hour later, Clark called. He said he wanted to talk.

* * *

Chloe stared at her cell phone as the glowing touchscreen faded, carrying Lois's name and number away. She shoved the phone in her pocket.

Davis had finished paying for the gas. He hugged her from behind, left arm looping around to hold a candy heart in front of her.

"Hey. You said road trips give you a sweet tooth, so…"

She took it. "Thank you…"

She sniffled. He pretended not to notice.

"C'mon, Clyde, let's disappear," she said.

He followed her. "Bonne and Clyde? I was expecting Thelma and Louise."

On the road, he turned on the radio. It played Walking In Memphis. Davis listened for a few moments, body stiff, fingers tight on the steering wheel. Slowly, painfully, his eyes began to moisten, as if they'd grown tired of waiting for the rest of the world to melt, as if poisonous memories had finally reached his heart.

Without much fuss, Chloe changed the station.

They kept driving.

* * *

Clark sat down in front of Lois. She'd been waiting at the restaurant for twenty minutes. He wasn't wearing his usual expensive clothes, just jeans and a red shirt. He ran his hands through his hair, over his face, then lowered them to the table. He looked at her. There were vast wells of tears behind his eyes, unable to be accessed.

"I was ten years old when my father pushed me down a flight of stairs."

* * *

The revelation of Lionel Luthor's abuses sold millions of papers and led to him being charged with the first of many crimes. Chloe smiled when she saw the article in the Daily Planet.

It would've been a damn shame if Chloe Sullivan never made it to the front page.

* * *

Lex sat in his father's office. His office.

Funny, how you could get what you wanted and still not get what you wished for.

He turned the pages of Joseph Willowbrook's book. The Kawatche prophecies were more fascinating than they had any right to be, much more than mere superstition and allegory.

He set them aside for the moment, picking up the report Gina had just brought him. Amazing, to think that Davis Bloom's powers could be transferred with a little Kryptonite and electricity. If worst came to worst, those powers might be the only thing that could stop Naman.

After all, Naman sounded nigh-unstoppable. He could conquer the world, if he wanted to. Anyone willing to try to keep him in check would be a brave man indeed.

Who knew? Maybe Naman wasn't the hero of the story.


End file.
